


Damned Demented Demons

by hells_half_acre



Series: Demented'verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Post - Deathly Hallows, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 103,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_half_acre/pseuds/hells_half_acre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry saves the Winchesters from a Dementor attack, but the Winchesters aren't the only ones that need saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that the Battle of Hogwarts took place in Spring 1997...so that's what I based my timeline on. Since then I've seen that most sources have it in 1998. Ah well. In this story it's 1997. The events of the story take place sometime in late 2008.
> 
> This was originally posted on my LJ in the spring/summer of 2009

It had been cloudy, misty, and unseasonably cold for days. If Sam hadn't known any better, he could have sworn he was in the Pacific North-West or, god forbid, Canada; but he and Dean were actually working a case in North Carolina.  
  
Worse yet, the weather was beginning to affect their moods. Growing up, whenever Sam was feeling down, Dean had always been there to find some bizarre way to cheer him up - usually by being an idiot on purpose. But these days Dean was just as sullen, if not more so, than Sam, a fact that only made Sam more depressed. Dean's nightmares had gotten worse too. The dark circles under his eyes were beginning to look permanent. It reminded Sam all too much of Dean's electrocution and the week he had spent slowly dying before Sam's eyes.   
  
Sam didn't know what to do about any of it, so he tried to just focus on the hunt. Problem was that it was just a simple salt-and-burn. Although Dean usually liked those cases, they could do them on auto-pilot, which was what they were doing with this one. Sam realized it wasn't doing anything to distract Dean, or himself, from their current state of misery.   
  
They had just parked the car and were walking back to their hotel room after their 2am cemetery visit, when the temperature seemed to drop even more. Sam paused. This really wasn't normal. It was almost like a cold spot, only Sam was pretty sure their hotel wasn't haunted. That was usually the first thing he and Dean confirmed upon arrival. He realized Dean had stopped walking too. Not only that, but he had stopped walking a few steps back. Sam turned to look at him, an eyebrow already raised in question. The expression left his face as soon as he caught sight of Dean.  
  
It had only been a short time since Dean's roadside confession about what had happened in Hell, and Sam had prayed that he would never see Dean that broken and miserable again. Obviously, no one was going to grant the prayers of a boy with demon-blood.  
  
"Dean?!" Sam yelled, as he watched Dean's knees buckle. He made a move towards his brother, but found himself struggling to breathe, let alone move. It felt like an icy hand had wrapped around his heart, and Dean was dying all over again, again and again and again before his eyes.   
  
"Sammy..." Dean whispered desperately, his voice breaking over the name. Sam watched as Dean's eyes slid closed and he fell unconscious onto the pavement. Sam had failed him again, just like he always did. Sam tried to move towards Dean again, falling to his knees in the process. He tried to crawl to his brother's prone body. His vision was getting black around the edges. No, no, he was still in the parking lot, there was just black around the edges. Black figures around the edges. Sam tried to focus on them; he wondered if they were reapers, come to take his brother away from him again. But it hurt to look at them, like he couldn't quite focus.   
  
Was Dean screaming? No, it was in his head. The hell-hounds, the fire. Sam shook his head and tried to focus on Dean in the parking lot. The screaming in his head stopped for a second and his vision cleared. He saw some of the black figures shift and glide, flying, but almost translucent like shadows.   
  
Suddenly, something silvery blue ran by Sam - a deer? The icy grip in his chest disappeared, though he was still left cold and slightly breathless. The black figures fled before the silver thing, too quickly for Sam to get a good look at them. Looking at them hurt his head anyway, like he was trying to see something that wasn't there. Sam tried to stand on his shaking legs, to get to Dean, but stumbled.  
  
"Slow down, mate," someone said in a British accent from just below his left shoulder, and Sam realized there were hands on his arm, trying to help him stay upright. Sam's heart was suddenly in his throat, and he whipped his head around to find the source of the voice.  
  
He looked down into green earnest eyes, and felt himself relax, against logic.   
  
"My brother..." Sam started to say, but the man cut him off.   
  
"Your brother is ok, just passed out. Can you sit down, please? You're a bit heavy."   
  
Sam realized that he was leaning on someone who was a good foot shorter than him, if not more. He let the man help him sit back down on the ground, and used the opportunity to take a good look at him. If Sam were to guess, he would probably place the guy somewhere between him and Dean in age, which normally to Sam would rule out the possibility that he was another hunter, since most hunters Sam knew were older. It was extremely rare for someone to be raised in the profession, as he and Dean had been. Yet, his eyes told a different story, and Sam knew that somehow this guy had been behind the silver deer - that this guy had just saved them.  
  
"My name is Harry," the man said with a smile, when he saw Sam staring at him. Harry then reached into the pocket of his....robes? and held out Mars bar. "Here, have some chocolate. It'll help."  
  
Sam gave Harry a bemused look.   
  
"Trust me," Harry said, as he opened the Mars bar for Sam and held it out to him again. Sam took the bar from him and bit into it. Harry smiled. Amazingly, Sam felt a warmth slowly spread through him; the chill in the air seemed to lessen, and the chill in his own body that had been a constant for days all but disappeared. He widened his eyes at Harry, while shoving more of the Mars bar into his mouth.  
  
"See, not so ridiculous after all, am I?" Harry laughed. "Now, let's see about your brother."  
  
Suddenly feeling strong again, Sam leapt up and closed the short distance between him and Dean in a heartbeat. Rolling him onto his back and checking his pulse. Sam didn't even register Harry kneeling down on the other side of Dean. He was so relieved when there was a beat to meet his fingers and he could see Dean's chest slowly rise and fall, he leaned over and rested his forehead on Dean's chest. "Thank God," he whispered.  
  
"I told you, just passed out," Harry intoned gently. Sam raised his head, and was about to ask Harry something when he saw another man running towards them across the parking lot. He instinctively tensed and covered Dean's chest with an arm. Sam saw Harry immediately tense as well, probably in reaction to Sam's mood change, and saw his hand fly to a pocket in his robe.   
  
"Sir!" the new arrival said, upon seeing Harry turn towards him. "I saw your..." he then seemed to notice Sam and Dean, "...is everything alright?" Sam noted that, unlike Harry, he had an American accent.  
  
"It's Harry, Phil, not sir, and everything is fine. Do try not to run up on people when they are on edge," Harry replied, relaxing. Sam wondered who the heck Harry was. Phil was obviously at least 15 years his senior, but seemed to talk to him like Harry was his superior. Sam watched as Phil looked over him and Dean and then seemed to dismiss them.  
  
"Sorry sir, I mean Harry. What happened? Should I call someone from Obliviation?" Phil asked, completely ignoring Sam and Dean. Sam didn't know what that last word meant, but he knew when he was being ignored, and he didn't like it. Not when his brother was unconcsious and he didn't have an answer as to why.   
  
"What were those black things? Where did that deer come from? Who are you?" Sam cut in before Harry could answer Phil. Harry's head whipped back around as though he had been struck.   
  
"You..." Harry trailed off, a look of shock on his face. Sam wondered if maybe no one ever interrupted this guy. Harry seemed to recover slightly, but still looked at Sam with a curious expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name. Let's do this properly." Harry paused, and ran his left hand through his mop of wild black hair, clearing it out of his eyes, and then held out his right hand towards Sam, smiling. "I'm Harry Potter, pleased to meet you."  
  
Sam wondered what names had to do with anything, but decided to just roll with it.   
  
"Sam Winchester." Sam shook Harry's hand, and then pointed towards Dean's prone form. "This is my brother, Dean."  
  
Harry just shook Sam's hand and continued to look at him curiously, then reached up and pulled his hair back over his forehead. Harry turned back towards Phil, while Sam kept his eyes on Harry.   
  
"You didn't answer any of my questions..." Sam began, becoming frustrated.  
  
"No," Harry said, "but Phil's about to answer one of mine." Sam shifted his gaze to Phil, and immediately tensed again. Phil was looking at him as though he knew exactly who Sam was. That look was never a good sign.  
  
"Hunters, sir," Phil breathed. "The Winchesters, they...well-known Hunters, sir."   
  
Sam stayed crouched, ready.  
  
"Well-known for good or bad reasons, Phil?" Harry asked, deceptively casually, because Sam could see the tension in his body.  
  
Phil seemed to be unsure of how to answer, but then said, "We've never had a problem with them. But, sir, he shouldn't have been able to see..."  
  
"Well..." Harry cut him off, and Sam saw his body relax. "There's no need for Obliviation then. Have the boys set up a perimeter." Harry turned back to Sam, "This is your hotel, right? How about we go to your room, get your brother on a bed, and I'll answer your questions there. Sound good, Sam?" Sam nodded, and Harry turned back to Phil, "No word of who the Muggles are to anyone, and no one enters the room unless I call them, understood?"  
  
"Yessir," Phil replied without hesitation, and Sam didn't blame him. For such a young guy, Harry's voice had an air of authority Sam had only ever heard from his father. Phil turned and ran back the direction he had come.   
  
"Can you carry him?" Harry asked Sam, nodding towards Dean.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Sam carefully lifted Dean off the ground, and walked to their room, grateful that they were on the ground floor. After some maneuvering at the door that had Harry fishing the keys out of Dean's pocket, they laid Dean out on the bed, and Sam motioned to the small table and chairs.  
  
"Answers now! What were those black things? Where did that deer come from? Why isn't my brother awake yet? Who are you?" Sam gave Harry his best glare.   
  
"Ok...ok, to your first question: those black things are called Dementors..."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had to admit that it took a lot of effort not to flinch at Sam's hard glare once they were seated, which was saying something, because Harry had rarely even flinched in front of Voldemort - and the times he had, he could blame on being only a kid.  
  
"...Those black things are called Dementors," Harry explained, watching as Sam picked up a notebook from a stack of three, and started taking jot form notes. Harry let it pass. They were Hunters, they deserved to know. "They are a magical creature. They usually only live in northern climates, specifically, Northern Europe. They aren't supposed to be this far south, or even on this continent."  
  
"Why are they here then? What do they do?" Sam asked in a very business-like manner.  
  
"Why they are here...I don't know. It's why I'm here. The last time they moved on this level they were being controlled by someone, well, commanded anyway, and since I was the one that defeated that person, they've called me over here as a sort of 'expert', if you will. Really though, I have no idea if they are being controlled or if they just came here of their own free will." Harry ran a hand through his hair, and decided he might as well be completely honest. Sod the Americans and their secrecy rules. "You have to understand, Sam. It takes a very dark wizard to command a Dementor, and I just don't think...maybe I just don't want to believe...that there's that kind of trouble out there."  
  
"Wizard?" Sam raised an eyebrow, "Like a witch?"   
  
"Yes," said Harry, "and no. It's complicated. As for what Dementors DO. You've already felt it, first-hand."  
  
Sam's brow furrowed. "It was cold..." he said. "It felt like there was ice in my veins."  
  
"Right," said Harry, "but that's mainly just a side-effect. You also felt miserable, didn't you? As though you would never be happy again?"  
  
Harry watched as a look of confusion passed over Sam's face.  
  
"Yes, but..." Sam started. "But I've felt that way for days now...so has Dean."   
  
Harry tried not to let his surprise show on his face, as he felt his interest in the Winchesters spike even more.   
  
"The Dementors have been within US borders for a week already. Some must have been close to you for the past couple of days." Harry watched as Sam's mouth twisted into a frown. He knew that look all too well. "You didn't know what they were, so you wouldn't have known to look for anything."   
  
Sam seemed to accept the excuse, and then raised his pen over the notebook again. "So they make people sad?"   
  
"Yes, but that's not all," Harry said, glancing over at the still unconscious Dean. It only concerned Harry a little that most people would have woken up by now. "The Dementor can also suck out someone's soul - it's called a Dementor's Kiss, mainly because they have to get close enough to kiss you in order to do it. It's extremely rare for a Dementor to kiss someone, though; normally they just feed from a distance. You see, Dementors feed off happiness. They don't have to touch you in order to do that, they just have to be close to you. The more sadness in your life, the stronger your reaction to the Dementors is. Basically, they feed off your happy memories, until all you are left with is your bad memories. Some people..."  
  
Harry cut himself off as he caught sight of Sam. Sam's eyes were as wide as saucers, his pen dropped to the table forgotten, and suddenly he was running over to his brother on the bed.  
  
"Shit! DEAN!" Sam yelled at his brother, and then started to lightly smack his cheeks. "Wake up, Dean! Please wake up!" Sam's voice was taking on an unnerving edge of desperation and panic. "You aren't there. You came back. Please...Dean, wake up!"  
  
Harry shook himself out of his confused shock and ran over to the bed as well, pulling Sam's hands away from his brother's face.   
  
"Sam! Calm down!" Sam pulled his hands away from Harry's, but ceased trying to wake his brother by force. Sam fell to his knees beside the bed, and then looked up at Harry with eyes so full of worry that Harry's breath caught in his throat.   
  
"You don't understand," Sam all but whispered. "He just got back...I...they just brought him back..."  
  
"What do you mean, Sam?" Harry asked, "If I don't understand, then explain it to me."  
  
Sam looked back at his brother, then at Harry, and seemed to make a decision.  
  
"He just got back from Hell," Sam said. "He was in Hell for four months...four months on Earth, but it was longer in..." Sam's breath hitched, and he turned back to Dean without completing the sentence.  
  
Harry stared dumbfounded. "Hell? How did...How is that...oh Merlin...Hell?"  
  
"He sold his soul for me..." Sam whispered. "They only just brought him back a couple months ago..."  
  
Harry didn't need Hermione there to tell him that they didn't even have a measure for Hell in the article  _Susceptibility to Dementors According To Patient Life-Experiences_ , that St. Mungo's had published a few years back. This was bad.  
  
"Sam," Harry said, and Sam turned back to him immediately. Harry realized he had slipped back into Auror-mode, but continued without stopping. "I can help your brother, but you are going to have to trust me completely. Can you do that?"  
  
Harry watched as Sam's eyes bored into his own. If Harry hadn't know any better, he'd have sworn that Sam was attempting some form of legilimancy, but he didn't feel anyone rifling through his head. Sam simply stared at Harry for a solid few seconds, and then nodded.

"I'll trust you."   
  
"Good. Thank you," Harry replied, but he felt the weight of meaning behind Sam's words. Harry knew that if Dean didn't wake up, it would likely be the end of Harry.  
  
Harry pulled out what looked like a flip-phone, but was actually a two-way mirror.   
  
"Phil," he said, and saw Phil's face swim into focus.  
  
"Yessir?" Phil's voice came out crystal clear into the room. Harry suspected that Sam might just assume he was using the speaker phone setting, but knew that Sam would discover soon enough that Harry was a wizard, if he didn't suspect already. "I have a code M2-D. I need you to do a supply run immediately."  
  
"Right away, sir."  
  
"And Phil?" Harry added, glancing at Sam.  
  
"Yessir?"  
  
"You have permission to apparate."   
  
"Y...yessir." Phil gave Harry a concerned look through the mirror, just before Harry snapped it shut and slid it back into his pocket.   
  
Sam stood and looked at Harry. Harry had to admit, he much preferred when Sam had been kneeling. The younger man was far less intimidating when he wasn't so tall.   
  
"What does M2-D, mean? Who are you?" Sam asked.  
  
"M2-D means that a...person has been rendered unresponsive by a Dementor, but has not been kissed," Harry stated. "And as I told you, my name is Harry Potter...I'm a wizard, Sam."  
  
Harry watched Sam's eyes widen in surprise, and he wondered which Sam would choose - to move towards the duffle bag on the floor that Harry suspected was full of weapons, or to continue to hover protectively over his brother. He decided that he couldn't take his chances on the answer.  
  
"More specifically, I'm an Auror. That means that I'm a wizard who hunts down dark wizards and makes sure that they don't harm anyone and that they pay for any harm they have already caused. Do you understand? I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you or your brother."  
  
Harry watched as Sam nodded.   
  
"So...you're like a Hunter, only...?"  
  
"A wizard." Harry finished with a smile. "That's one way to look at it. So, are you still going to trust me?"  
  
Sam nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's.   
  
"Good," Harry replied, just as Phil suddenly appeared right inside the door carrying a grocery bag and a white box. Sam tensed, but didn't move otherwise. Harry had to admit that he was quite impressed with how stoic the younger man was, when most would have been freaking out.  
  
"Thanks, Phil," Harry said, and took the items out of Phil's hand. "Tell the boys to expand the protective perimeter to account for an unchartable susceptibility. All previous orders remain in effect," Phil nodded gravely, glanced once more at Sam in either wonder or fear and then turned and disapparated.  
  
Harry put the white box and the grocery bag on the table. He pulled a chocolate syrup bottle out of the grocery bag.   
  
"Help yourself to that," he said to Sam, and gestured to the white box. Sam slowly left Dean's side and walked over to the table. Harry moved past him towards Dean. He heard Sam flip the box open.   
  
"Cake?" Sam said, and Harry almost laughed at the tone. So rarely did anyone talk to him these days as though he were an idiot.  
  
"I know it seems ridiculous," Harry replied glancing back at Sam, "but you did say you would trust me."   
  
Sam shrugged, and began to serve himself some cake, finding the paper plates and plastic forks in the grocery bag. Harry had to admit that he was surprised Sam really did seem to trust him.  
  
"You're going to force feed my brother chocolate syrup?" Sam asked warily.  
  
"Yes, hopefully this will work. If I have to call in a Healer...well, let's just say, I don't want to do that." Luckily, Harry knew just the spell that would work. He had used it on James when he had been sick as a baby and had refused to eat. Sam came over and sat on the other side of the bed with his piece of cake, and watched Harry.  
  
Harry pulled out his wand, glancing at Sam quickly as he did so, but Sam only watched with open curiosity. The concern for Dean was still in his eyes, but Harry could tell that Sam didn't consider Harry a threat. Harry knew he should just be grateful and leave it alone, but his curiosity was growing.  
  
Harry dripped chocolate syrup into the air above Dean, and then caught it with a muttered spell, leaving it to hover. He concentrated and led the syrup through the air, then gently pulled Dean's chin down until his lips parted, and guided the syrup past them. He muttered more incantations and placed his wand on Dean's throat, which swallowed in response.   
  
Harry glanced up at Sam again, and began to repeat the procedure, this time, dividing his attention slightly. He could do these spells wordlessly, after all.   
  
"Sam?" Harry began, quietly. "Not that I want you to doubt your decision or anything, but can I ask...why are you trusting me?"  
  
Sam gave him a bemused look.  
  
"I mean, I'm thrilled, I really am. And you _should_ trust me. I'm a nice guy and all...only want to help." Harry paused to make Dean swallow, and then realized that he had been rambling. "It's just...you and your brother, well you're Hunters! I somehow doubt you trust just anyone, especially people who are...different."   
  
Harry was surprised when Sam ducked his head, as if embarrassed, and seemed to overly focus on getting another forkful of cake.  
  
"You'll probably understand when he wakes up." Sam replied softly, not meeting Harry's eyes. Then Sam smiled. "Plus, I'm sure you're aware that you have a scar on the back of your hand that says 'I must not tell lies.'"  
  
"Oh." Harry had honestly forgotten about that.  
  
"Is it working?" Sam changed the subject, nodding towards Dean.   
  
Harry put a hand to Dean's cheek. "Yes, I think so. He seems a bit warmer, less pale. He should be awake by now, though. I'll give him some more."  
  
Harry repeated the process, while Sam stuffed cake in his mouth. This time, as soon as Harry made Dean swallow, Dean's eyes flew open. Harry immediately understood why Sam had trusted him. There, staring at him, were eyes that Harry had only ever seen in the mirror. Sam had green eyes, but there was a muddy quality to them. Dean's eyes, though, were pure green.   
  
Of course, Harry only had a second to take that in, before he found himself on the floor, his hand and wand pinned down, a knife at his throat, and those pure green eyes boring into his menacingly. He heard a noise from Sam that Harry could only assume was the name Dean shouted around a mouthful of cake.   
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you?" Dean growled from on top of Harry.  
  
"I brought cake," Harry replied without thinking, and then cursed himself for having perhaps the stupidest last words ever.


	3. Chapter 3

"What kind of cake?"   
  
"Chocolate."  
  
Harry watched as Dean mulled over his answer. For the first time in his life, Harry found himself praying that someone liked chocolate.  
  
"Dean! Let him up!" Sam called from somewhere above them, having, Harry assumed, finally been able to swallow the cake in his mouth. Dean pulled the knife away from Harry's throat, but didn't let go of his wand arm, nor did he get off him.  
  
"Sam?" Dean said. "Are you ok? Who is this guy?"   
  
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam replied. Sam's huge frame appeared behind Dean. "His name is Harry. He saved us. Let him up." One of Sam's hands tugged at Dean's shoulder and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Dean shifted off him.   
  
"Stay still, let me get you some cake," Sam told Dean. It was then that Harry realized that Dean was shaking ever so slightly. Harry sat up and put a hand to his throat. No blood. Someone who was affected so severely by a Dementor should not have been able to hold a knife still, let alone press it to someone's throat and not accidentally cut them.  
  
"What did I tell you about strangers offering you cake, Sammy?" Dean retorted, though he obeyed Sam and didn't try to get up. Sam scoffed in reply, but Harry could tell it was out of amusement.   
  
Harry went to stand, but suddenly Dean's hand shot out and grabbed his wand hand. A jolt of pain traveled up Harry's arm as Dean dug a finger into a pressure point, and Harry's grip on his wand gave way. Harry let out a small noise at the pain, but didn't move to to counter-attack.  
  
"You may have saved us, but for now I keep the fancy stick, understand?" Dean said in a low tone. Harry nodded. He wondered if perhaps he should have left Sam alone with the chocolate syrup and told him to figure it out himself and disappeared, but there were still so many unanswered questions. He had also assumed, due to Sam's size and the hard glares, that Sam was the more threatening of the two brothers. Obviously, Harry was an idiot.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, exasperated. "You didn't have to hurt..." Harry narrowed his eyes at Sam, cutting him off.   
  
"I can look after myself, thank you," Harry said. "If he wants to hold my bloody wand, he can go right ahead."   
  
Sam pursed his lips. Harry could tell he was trying not to laugh and he felt himself beginning to blush. Honestly, this was humiliating. He hadn't been disarmed since...well, before Voldemort fell. Harry resisted the urge to look at Dean, as he suddenly wondered if the Elder Wand's allegiance could pass to a Muggle.   
  
"I hope you left me some bloody cake..." Harry muttered as he stood and made his way over to the small table, trying to hide his embarrassment. Sam handed Dean a piece of cake, and sat on the floor beside him, as if sitting on the floor was the normal thing to do while eating cake. Harry pulled over a chair and decided to enjoy looking down at the brothers in childish vengeance.   
  
"This cake is awesome, thanks, dude," Dean said, around a mouthful of said cake. Harry saw Sam roll his eyes, but Harry recognized the comment for what it was - a peace offering.  
  
"Glad you like it," Harry replied, and he  _was_  glad. There was more colour in Dean's cheeks now, and Harry knew that the chocolate was working and the perimeter was most likely wide enough.  
  
"So..." Dean said, "do you mind telling me why you were force-feeding me chocolate?"  
  
Harry swallowed his mouthful of cake, and placed his plate to the side. "You were attacked...well, not really, but you came too close to some creatures called Dementors. You passed out, and your brother was concerned, and you might have woken up on your own eventually, but I decided not to risk it. Chocolate is the only thing that counter-acts the effect Dementors have on a person."  
  
"Dementors feed on happiness, Dean," Sam chimed in, making an effort, Harry was sure, to explain why he had allowed a stranger near him while Dean was unconscious. "Harry says they take all your happy memories away and leave you with just the bad ones. So I thought...well, you know..." Sam trailed off, and Harry surmised that Dean's sojourn in Hell was most likely a taboo topic among the brothers. Harry decided to rescue Sam.  
  
"I talked to Sam and I think that you've probably been feeling the effects of the Dementors for a few days now. Does that sound about right?"   
  
Dean nodded and gave his cake an angry look. "Yeah, that explains a few things," he replied softly.   
  
"Could you see them?" Harry asked.  
  
"If I had seen them, I would have shot them," Dean responded in a growl.  
  
"Well, that would be a waste of bullets, but I suppose it answers my question," Harry replied. "Sam, you saw them, though, right? Tonight, in the parking lot?"  
  
"Yeah..." Sam replied slowly, and then continued when Dean gave him a look, "like black flying shadows of people. I saw them just before that deer came. It was hard, though, like my eyes wanted to look past them. I couldn't focus. It hurt my head."  
  
"Interesting," Harry muttered. Sam was definitely a Muggle. There was no way that a wizard could reach that age without being noticed. Accidental magic only increased with age, if a wizard went untrained.   
  
"What's interesting?" Dean asked. Harry realized that his thoughts about Sam must have been showing on his face, because Dean was giving him a look that clearly stated that he didn't appreciate people finding his brother interesting. Harry wondered just how many other people had found something interesting about Sam, and why, and what had happened to them.  
  
"Muggles - that means non-magic people - can't normally see Dementors. You're not a wizard, Sam, but you could see the Dementors. I just don't understand why," Harry replied. Sam and Dean shot each other significant looks, leaving Harry out of some sort of silent conversation...or argument, judging by some of the expressions.  
  
"Your nose bleed?" Dean finally asked Sam out loud.  
  
"No," Sam dismissed.  
  
"Same sort of headache, though, am I right?" Dean stated. Harry could tell it wasn't really a question, by the way Sam responded by looking away with a clenched jaw.  
  
"Mind filling me in?" Harry asked.  
  
"No," Dean said firmly. "Family business."  
  
It appeared Sam wasn't turning back to the conversation anytime soon, as he was still resolutely looking anywhere but at Dean or Harry. Harry sighed. "Alright..."  
  
"So this thing," Dean began, twirling Harry's wand around in his fingers. "You called it a wand. You say only wizards can see Dementors. Am I correct in assuming that you're a wizard?"   
  
"That's correct," Harry replied. Harry didn't know what reaction he had expected, but it definitely wasn't for Dean to reach over and smack Sam on the back of the head.  
  
"What's the matter with you!?" Dean chastised. "I can't close my eyes for a second without you palling around with demonic freaks?!"  
  
"Hey!" both Harry and Sam protested.  
  
"He saved us, Dean!" Sam defended.  
  
"So everyone who saves you gets invited back the motel room, is that it? Because I'm beginning to see a pattern here, Sam!" Dean responded.  
  
"If this is about Ruby..." Sam started.   
  
"This is about common sense!" Dean argued back.  
  
"You were dead!" Sam yelled.  
  
"I was just unconscious!"   
  
"No, before! You were dead. Ruby was..."  
  
"This isn't about Ruby!"  
  
"I died once. My wife still hasn't forgiven me," Harry cut in, and then watched in satisfaction as both Sam and Dean turned to him in confusion. Mission accomplished. "Now, while I have your attention, I'd like to point out that I am _not_ a demon _nor_ a freak, and I'd thank you not to refer to me as either. As I was telling Sam earlier, I'm an Auror, which is basically the wizard version of a Hunter. So, I'll have you know, Dean, that Sam did not make a poor decision in trusting me. If he hadn't allowed me to help, you would probably still be unconscious and dreaming about godknowswhat, so I thank you to NOT CALL ME A FREAK."  
  
Harry took a deep breath; he really hated being called a freak.  
  
"Dude..." Dean said eloquently, "does your hair always move on its own like that when you're angry?"  
  
Harry shot him a puzzled look, "Wha...?"  
  
"It totally did, Harry," Sam added. "Blew right off your forehead like there was a wind, only we're inside..."  
  
"Damn it," Harry said, reaching up and feeling his forehead where his bangs usually rested. He quickly smoothed his hair back down over his scar. "Sorry..." he said, "The word freak sort of hits a nerve...and sometimes when I'm angry..."   
  
"Sorry," Dean replied, cutting Harry off, and throwing another significant look towards Sam. "Thanks for helping us, and all. But, man, if wizards are like witches...we're going to have to gank you."  
  
"Dean!" Sam said in horror. "He's a Hunter!"  
  
"He's a male witch or something, Sam!" Dean replied.  
  
"Maybe if I explain further?" Harry interrupted. "I think if I explained, you would realize that there's actually no reason to..uh, gank...me."   
  
"Ok, fine," Dean conceded. "Explain, but I think I'd like to get up off the floor now...and get another piece of cake. So, let's move this floor party to the table, alright?"  
  
Sam scrambled up after Dean, and Harry pulled his chair back over to the table. Sam let Dean have the other chair, and sat on the end of the bed closest to the table instead.   
  
"Ok. There are two types of witches," Harry began. "There are girls who are born witches. They can't help but be witches. They've got magic in their blood, so to speak. Males that are born with magic in their blood are called wizards. So, you have witches and wizards, like me, who can do magic, see magic creatures, and tend to have magic children...and we all live in a magic society that we keep hidden from anyone who is not magic, because we are either afraid that they will...gank us, or that they will expect us to magically solve all their problems."   
  
"Are there unicorns who shit rainbows there too?" Dean asked sarcastically.  
  
"Well, there are unicorns, but I'm pretty sure they shit the same as other horses," Harry answered, rolling his eyes. "Just listen, please. The other type of witches are the ones you guys usually deal with. They are non-magic people, usually females for some bizarre reason, that acquire magic powers through unsavory methods. They tend to be evil, and they have absolutely nothing to do with wizards, and we have nothing to do with them. I'm sure you know exactly what they are like, so I don't have to go into detail. But I would just like to point out that normal wizards and witches are not generally evil. There is no reason to kill me. I'm a Hunter, just like you are."  
  
"So, there are your witches and wizards and there are _our_ witches, and yours are good and ours are evil?" Dean summed up.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied, "well, not quite. Wizard society, just like the rest of the world, has a wide range of characters. Just as you get serial-killers and evil people in the non-magic world, so too in the wizarding world. An Auror hunts dark wizards. Basically, they are the law enforcement. If a wizard or witch goes dark, it's my job to hunt them down and stop them, one way or another, but preferably by taking them to court and sentencing them to prison time and whatnot."  
  
"Huh.." Dean and Sam both said in thought. Sam continued, "That explains why you've got those guys outside under your command. Usually Hunters work alone, but you've had Phil calling you sir all night, and you remind me of my Dad when you bark orders at him."   
  
Dean was staring open-mouthed at Sam, and Harry sighed; he had a feeling this information was not going to help him.  
  
"He's got men outside? How many?" Dean asked.  
  
"He's set up a perimeter, " Sam replied.  
  
"Ten, eleven if you count Phil," Harry answered the second part of the question. "But they're just trainees, except for Phil. I like to use young people, it feels less strange to boss them around."  
  
"So we're surrounded...by young trainee wizards?" Dean repeated back slowly.  
  
"Well, yes," Harry replied, "but they are facing out, not in." At Dean's puzzled look, Harry continued, "They're keeping the Dementors away, they aren't keeping you in. They don't even know who I'm in here with. For all they know, you are just two random Muggles, and I'm just taking a hell of a long time to erase your memories. I tell them to secure the area, they do it. I tell them that who I'm with is none of their business, they don't ask. It's why I use trainees. They're so eager to work with me, that the last thing they'll do is question my authority. And that's a good thing for both me and you. Because it makes my job a heck of a lot easier, and it avoids any of the higher-ups finding out that I've come into contact with the Winchesters and haven't brought you in for questioning."  
  
"Questioning?" Dean asked. "Are we in trouble for something?"   
  
"Not that I'm aware of," Harry said. "Hell, I don't know the first thing about you other than what I've learned tonight. I'm from the UK, in case you haven't noticed. But when Sam said his name earlier, Phil - he's my second in command - had a reaction that seemed to indicate that you were of interest to the Ministry. Usually, the Ministry leaves Hunters alone - you fellows hunt the evils that affect Muggles, while the Aurors hunt the evils that affect wizards. It usually works out perfectly. The fact that Phil even recognized your names means that you've been catching eyes somehow. Yet, he said that we'd never had a problem with you, which means that you haven't accidentally killed a proper witch or wizard. So, quite honestly, I don't know why they would want to see you."  
  
"But you aren't telling them that you've found us..." Sam said.  
  
"No," Harry replied, brushing a hand through his hair. "I know, technically I'm part of it, but the Ministry is still a government, and government has a tendency to completely miss the point while it gets caught up in politics and the delusion that they somehow are the solution to everything. Whatever you two are caught up in, they'd only get in your way." Harry glanced at Sam, unsure of whether he should continue.  
  
"There's something else," Dean stated, "about Sam...you're worried because he can see those things."   
  
Harry briefly wondered if Dean could read minds, but realized that he could probably just read people.  
  
"Yes, you're right," Harry admitted. "Sam's a Muggle, so he shouldn't be able to see the Dementors. If I turned you in and the Ministry found out, they'd want to do tests. They'd want to find out why." Harry watched as both Sam and Dean tensed. "Which is why I don't plan on letting anyone know. Phil already does, but he'll do as I say. You're lucky in that regard - that I was the one who found you today. These days, only my wife, best mates, and the Minister himself ever question my orders. I didn't ask for it and I try not to abuse it but, for circumstances like this, that kind of influence is quite handy."  
  
Harry watched as Dean and Sam soaked up the information. He wanted desperately to satisfy his own curiosity when it came to Sam, but knew that trying to pry out secrets was not the best way to put people at ease and, right now, alone and wandless in front of two formidable Hunters, Harry very much wanted to keep them at ease.  
  
"Will they get suspicious?" Dean asked. "With you being in here so long without explanation?"  
  
"I'll go out in a moment and give them some line." Harry mulled over possibilities. "I guess we'll have to stay here for the night. I'll tell them I was just making sure the muggles were alright, and then I was securing the building."  
  
"Why don't you just ship off?" Dean asked.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said in an undertone that Harry took as chastisement for being rude. Dean was doing his best to give Harry an intimidating glare, obviously upset over the possibility of Sam's secret being revealed. Harry sighed and chose to look at the box of chocolate cake while he answered. He might not know very much about the Winchesters, but he knew how he would feel if someone told him that he couldn't look after himself, and he didn't want to see it play out in Dean's familiar green eyes.  
  
"If we leave, the barrier you are currently enjoying leaves with us," Harry said evenly. "There would be nothing holding the Dementors back."   
  
Harry didn't have to be looking at Dean to see him tense. Sam didn't move. Harry realized that Sam had already known, that he hadn't been chastising his brother for being rude, he had been trying to tell him that Harry and his team were the only reason he was remaining conscious.  
  
A few tense seconds passed, before Dean spoke up again.  
  
"We've got salt. We've got ways of protecting ourselves. How wide does the barrier have to be?" Dean asked, the edge gone from his voice. Harry just shook his head.   
  
"There's only one thing that wards off Dementors, and you don't have it," Harry replied.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, what? We're just sitting ducks here?!" Dean let his frustration loose, as he stood and angrily paced the room. "We have to follow you around for the rest of our lives? Or are you just going to give us a night's rest before you let them finish us off?!"   
  
"The silver deer?" Sam asked, interrupting. "The silver deer I saw wards them off, right? You had it with you. You could give it to us..."  
  
"No," Harry interrupted. "Well, yes and no. Yes, it wards off Dementors. No, I can't give it to you."  
  
"Why not?" Sam insisted. "What was it? You could tell us how to get one, or make one, or summon one...!"  
  
"It's part of me, that's why!" Harry said. "It doesn't go anywhere without me. It's called a Patronus. It's a spell. It's only in the shape of a stag because I'm the one that cast it. It only exists when I tell it to and only for as long as I concentrate on it. You can't ward off Dementors because you aren't magic. I'm sorry."  
  
"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?" Dean asked pointedly.  
  
"I'll figure something out. I'm not going to just leave you defenseless. Why on earth would I have bothered saving you in the first place, if I was going to do that?" Harry replied rhetorically.  
  
Dean sagged onto the nearest bed and ran a hand over his face.  
  
"Sorry, man, I've just...people saving me....lately..." Dean scrambled for words that Harry knew were never going to come. Sam turned a sympathetic eye to his brother and shifted uneasily on his feet. Harry decided now was as perfect a time as any to start putting things in motion.  
  
"I'm going to call Phil back in here and give my orders," Harry stated, slipping back into Auror-mode. "You guys keep quiet, and try not to do anything suspicious. I'm letting you in on my orders to maintain the trust, understood? But I have to trust you as well; if I'm going to help you, you need to listen to me and do what I say. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yessir," Dean and Sam both muttered on reflex, and Harry had to bite his cheek to hide the grin that threatened to erupt at the simultaneous looks of horror that dawned on their faces when they realized what they had just said.  
  
"Did we...?" Sam started to ask, but Dean cut him off with a hard look. Harry flipped open his two-way mirror.  
  
"Team," Harry spoke clearly. "We're staying at this hotel for the night. Follow protocol accordingly. Length of stay is undetermined. Keep the perimeter secure in shifts of three, starting with Charlie, Deacon, and Allison. Phil, report to my location immediately for further instruction." A resounding chorus of "yessir"s and "affirmative captain"s resounded through the mirror before Harry said, "dismissed," and slipped it back in his pocket.  
  
Phil apparated just inside the doorway again, causing Dean to leap to his feet and reach for the nearest weapon, which happened to be Harry's wand. Harry could see Phil struggle not to reach for his own wand in response, but Sam already had a hand on Dean's arm in an obvious attempt to tell him it was alright.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said to Phil, ignoring the Winchesters for a moment. "Forgot to warn him."  
  
"You've been disarmed, sir?" Phil asked, obviously trying to figure out if Harry was being held there against his will or not.  
  
"Disarmed? Really, Phil. I merely left my wand on the bed in my haste to make sure Dean was alright," Harry laughed. He could see the Winchesters both trying to withhold their smiles, but thankfully neither of them called him out as a liar. "You mind if I take that back now, Dean?"  
  
"Uh, no..." Dean said with little hesitation, and made as if to cross the room to hand it to him.  
  
"No need," Harry said, raising his open hand in front of him and muttering a quick Accio. The wand flew from Dean's hand to his own. Both Sam and Dean's eyes widened, but Harry credited them both for not showing their surprise verbally. He was also thankful that they would assume that he could have done that the whole time, when in reality, the only way that spell could have worked was if Dean offered to give Harry the wand beforehand, since he had indeed been legitimately disarmed.  
  
Phil's guard dropped several degrees immediately, but Harry could still tell that he was wary of the Winchesters.   
  
"You two help yourself to more cake," Harry said. "Phil and I just need to discuss a few things." Harry motioned Phil to have a seat at the table, and after another silent eye-conversation, Dean came over and picked up the box of cake.  
  
"Uh," Sam said, obviously unsure about whether he should be talking, "I'm just going to walk down to the vending machine, see if it has anything to wash down cake."  
  
"Do you mind getting me a cola? Phil, would you like anything?" Harry asked. Phil shook his head, but didn't look at Sam. "Nothing for Phil then, thanks."  
  
Harry knew what Sam was really doing. Dean was stationed on a bed with the cake, with no excuse for not overhearing everything Harry and Phil said, and Sam was now investigating the immediate surrounding area, possibly trying to get a look at Harry's team, while disguising the reconnaissance as an innocent run to the vending machine. The Winchesters were trusting Harry, but they weren't stupid, Harry had to give them that.  
  
"What's going on, Harry?" Phil asked tersely. Harry huffed a short laugh.  
  
"How come you only call me Harry when you aren't sure that you like what I'm up to?" Harry asked with a wink. Phil had the decency to look a little chagrined, but he still gave Harry a level look.  
  
"And what are you up to, _sir_?"  
  
"Please, Phil. Call me Harry."   
  
Dean coughed into his cake, then tried to cover it by looking impatiently at the door for Sam to return with something to drink.  
  
"Harry..." Phil said, exasperated.  
  
"Ok, ok...so, here are the facts: These brothers here are old friends of mine, understand? I didn't even know they were in North Carolina and I'm thrilled to see them. They both, one of them especially, have a nasty susceptibility to the influence of Dementors...for reasons that, let's just say...have to do with the war. I'd love to catch up with them for a day or so, make sure they're alright...maybe they could travel with us for a bit, or maybe our team will just stay here...I guess it depends partially on the Dementor movements."  
  
"Harry, you didn't even know who the Winchesters were earlier...I saw you  _introduce_  yourself..." Phil started.  
  
"Winchesters? I still don't know who the Winchesters are. I believe we have a case of mistaken identity. These are my friends Sal and Dirk Windermere. That little bit with introductions is just this gag we pull on each other, you know how old friends are."  
  
"Harry, you don't expect me to believe..." Phil began, just as Sam opened the door.  
  
"Took you long enough, Sal," Dean said. Sam gave Dean a bemused look, and walked over to Harry.  
  
"Here's your coke, Harry," He said.  
  
"No problem, thanks Sal," Harry replied. "Now why don't you go help your brother, Dirk, finish that cake."  
  
"Sure thing..." Sam said, nodding.  
  
Harry turned back to Phil, who was rolling his eyes, and smiled.  
  
"I don't expect you to believe anything, Phil," Harry said. "I just expect you to back me up, seeing as how you are my second in command."  
  
"You are one infuriating kid sometimes, sir," Phil muttered. "You're lucky I respect you so much."  
  
"I'm lucky for a lot of reasons," Harry replied seriously. There was a pause, during which the only sounds in the room were Sam and Dean taking swigs from their drinks and not even bothering to hide the fact that they were listening. Phil sighed and angled his chair so that he could speak to everyone, and not just Harry. Harry didn't bother hiding the grin on his face.  
  
"Alright, why do you need the story? I take it we aren't just leaving in the morning," Phil asked.  
  
"No, I don't think we can," Harry said, the grin slipping from his face. "My friends here are too susceptible to the presence of Dementors. Leaving them would probably be the equivalent of killing them, unless we were able to take the Dementors with us."  
  
"That's a bit extreme, unless they're kissed..." Phil's brow furrowed.  
  
"No, Dean is an unchartable," Harry interrupted, "and from what I saw, Sam's not much better off. We need to stay with them, or figure out how to protect them."  
  
Phil nodded, and then finally addressed the Winchesters directly. "Can you really see them?" he asked Sam. Harry saw Dean tense and Sam's eyes flicker towards his briefly.  
  
"No," Sam said, eyes innocent. "I just knew that what was happening wasn't natural."  
  
"But you called them 'black things', you knew there were more than one..." Phil continued.  
  
"Turns out our boys aren't as stealthy as we thought!" Harry interrupted, thinking on his feet. "I've asked Sam about that, turns out he's just been seeing us running around in our robes since we got to town. You know how observant Hunters are."  
  
Phil rolled his eyes. "Fine, sir. What do you need me to do?"  
  
"There has to be a way to protect Muggles against Dementors. I want you to find any books or scrolls on the subject and bring them back here. Keep it as hushed as possible."   
  
"Understood, sir."   
  
"I'm going to stay with my friends here for the night," Harry said, ignoring Phil's sharp look and the Winchesters' audible pause in eating. "I'll come out and check the team, though." Harry directed, his attention back to Sam and Dean, "Guys? Mind if I pop out for a moment?"  
  
Harry tried not to show how anxious he was for their response. It was one thing for them to trust him when they had him in plain sight and could listen to everything he said, it was another all together to let him talk to his men alone.  
  
There was a pregnant pause, in which Sam looked to Dean and Dean looked at Harry. Then Dean pasted on a carefree smile.  
  
"Whatever, just...leave by the door," Dean said.  
  
"Brilliant, back in five, then," Harry responded and motioned Phil towards the door. Once outside, they began walking towards the perimeter - Harry had been serious about checking on the team, after all. Harry spoke in a low tone, knowing that Phil was waiting for his additional orders.  
  
"Phil, since my  _friends_  keep getting confused with these Winchester brothers, it might be handy if I could get my hands on whatever the Ministry has on file concerning them." Harry knew full well that it wasn't just Sam who had trusted a complete stranger that night. Harry intended to find out exactly who the Winchesters were, by whatever means he had at his disposal.


	5. Chapter 5

After Harry left the room, Dean waited the customary half-minute before turning to Sam and speaking in a rushed low voice.  
  
"What the hell, Sam?!"  
  
"How are you feeling?" Sam asked at the same time.  
  
A pause. Sam's brow furrowed slightly. Dean's glare softened.   
  
"Dean-" Sam began in a voice that Dean could recognize anywhere. He had gotten used to it in the year before he went to Hell, though that was literally a life-time ago now. It was Sam's 'I'm only trying to help' voice.  
  
"I'm fine, Sam," Dean interrupted him. "Now do you mind filling me in on what I missed?" In response, Sam stood and retrieved his journal from the table, tossing it to Dean.   
  
"That's as much as I learned about the Dementors before you woke up," Sam replied. "It isn't much. In terms of Harry himself, I know as much as you do. Out of Harry's men, I've only seen Harry and Phil. Whatever their perimeter is, it's not visible between here and the vending machine. I didn't see anyone, but I also didn't see any Dementors, so whatever they are doing is keeping them back."  
  
Dean nodded, looking over Sam's efficient handwriting. "Possibly controlled by a dark wizard?" he read aloud. "Man, as if things aren't complicated enough..." Dean let the thought hang, listened to Sam's small huff of breath that signaled his agreement, and then went in for the important information. "But you did see them, didn't you?"  
  
A pause again, and Dean looked up. Sam was busy stacking the dirty paper plates on the table with far too much concentration.   
  
"Yeah," Sam all but whispered. "I saw them. Just barely...it was like my eyes kept wanting to look away, though." Dean knew that there was no reason for him to ask any more; Sam would either tell him everything or keep it all to himself, and either way Sam's mind had already been made up as to which one it would be. Sam deposited the plates in the trash and muttered "I should've kept my mouth shut about it."  
  
Dean sighed. Yeah, Sam should have kept his mouth shut about it. Dean had the sinking suspicion that the lines between what Sam knew he was and wasn't supposed to be able to do were getting more and more blurred. Now wasn't the time for that discussion, though.  
  
"If Harry's telling the truth, then we don't need to worry too much about that. He won't let on," Dean replied. "So, I think what we  _have_  to worry about is whether or not we can really trust Harry." Sam seemed to relax, so Dean continued, "I say we give him the Holy Water test for good measure." Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean's only thought was 'some things never change'.   
  
"Dean! Really, you're as bad as Bobby."  
  
"And Bobby's still alive!" Dean responded.  
  
Sam scoffed, but leveled a glance at Harry's half-empty can of coke. "Yeah, alright."  
  
While Sam spiked Harry's drink, Dean laid some salt lines for good measure. He was considering drawing a devil's trap on the ceiling by the door, when Sam suddenly spoke up behind him.  
  
"Does this mean we have to share a bed?"   
  
Dean groaned. He didn't need to imagine the accidental kicking that would occur if both he and Sam attempted to share one double bed.   
  
"Goddamn wizard can sleep on the floor. There is no way in hell I'm sharing with you, Sasquatch."   
  
Dean turned in time to see Sam's smile, which seemed to have the same effect as the chocolate cake had earlier. He knew Sam was about to call him a jerk, but it was cut off by a soft knock on the door.  
  
A look passed between them, and Sam moved next to the open duffle by his bed. Dean looked through the peephole and then relaxed, casually opening the door.   
  
"Hey, sorry, didn't bring the key with me when I left," Harry said, then looked to the ground. "Is that salt? I've got wards, you know, I mean, it's a little unnecessary..." Dean leveled his best glare and waited for Harry to lift his head up again to meet it. He didn't have to wait long. "...but of course, can't be too careful! Good thinking. Salt."  
  
Harry visibly swallowed, and Dean couldn't help but smirk. He could practically hear Sam roll his eyes at him from across the room, but he chose to ignore it.   
  
"Your guys outside alright?" Dean asked, letting Harry off the hook for the salt comment.  
  
"Yeah, I fed them the story I told Phil. You guys are old friends of mine. Dirk and Sal Windermere. You're Muggles who know about the wizarding world because you foolishly chose to visit Britain during the winter of 1996/97. So, yeah...that's the story."  
  
"What's so special about 1996/97?" Sam asked. Dean watched as Harry grimaced.  
  
"Dark days of the Second Wizard War. We were losing. I spent that winter hiding in forests with my two best mates, trying not to starve to death. No one knows exactly where I was at any given time, so no one knows who I met, or didn't meet, either."   
  
"How old..." Sam started.  
  
"I was seventeen," Harry answered. "In order to have met me, well, you can take your pick of either a story in which you guys are tortured for fun by Death Eaters and I saved you - that one paints me in the heroic light, but might bring too much attention to you if the wizard press gets wind of it... or we could say that I showed up at the cottage your family was renting and you took pity on me and took me in for a few days - but really, it's best not to offer a story unless we absolutely have to. I'm hoping we can solve this without involving anyone else."  
  
Dean nodded, and tried not to watch too intently as Harry picked up his coke and took a long drink. He glanced at Sam, who already had his 'I told you so' expression on. He shrugged - they really were better safe then sorry.  
  
"So!" Dean said, changing the subject. "I don't know why you insist on sleeping in here with us, but I'll have you know that you are sleeping on the floor, because I am not, under any circumstances, spending the night getting kicked in the shins by my giant little brother."   
  
Harry laughed. "Throw me a pillow," he said. Dean grabbed the extra off his bed and tossed it to him. Harry caught it with one hand, and drew his wand with the other. Then, in a flurry of movement and vaguely latin-sounding words, Dean watched open-mouthed as the pillow stretched and grew until it had completely transformed into a single cot that Harry squeezed into the small space between Dean's bed and the door.   
  
There was a long moment of stunned silence, Dean tried to think of something snarky to say to wipe the shit-eating grin off Harry's face, when Sam spoke up in a surprisingly timid voice.  
  
"Can you um...make..." Sam gestured weakly towards his own bed, and for a moment Dean was as confused as Harry looked. Then it hit him.  
  
"Oh," Dean said, and looked back at Harry, who was still trying to put together what Sam was asking. Dean wasn't sure he liked the idea of Sam sleeping on a magic bed but, before he could put that thought into words that didn't sound ridiculous, Harry finally clued in.  
  
"Make your bed bigger?" Harry asked. Sam's response was to bite his lower lip and look down. Dean smiled. Sam had been doing that since he was five. It was his 'I know I shoudn't ask for too much' face.  
  
"He usually sleeps diagonal," Dean stated. "He just needs another foot."  
  
Harry nodded and magicked Sam's bed, which expanded immediately.  
  
"Thanks!" Sam said, and for a brief moment Dean saw Sam smile in a way that he hadn't seen since - well, it seemed like a life-time.  
  
Slowly, they all turned in for the night. Dean knew that he wouldn't be getting much sleep with a stranger in the room. He shared a look with Sam, while Harry was in the bathroom, and it was agreed that they'd sleep in shifts. It wasn't like Dean was sleeping too long these days, anyway.  
  
Plus, he would probably spend the whole night awake wondering how they were supposed to stop the apocalypse when they were leashed to a wizard.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was awoken the next morning in the middle of another nightmare/memory, by a knock at the door. He watched Harry groggily roll out of bed and grab his wand and glasses from the pile of robes on the floor. Dean reached up and grasped the handle of the knife under his pillow, and threw a glance over to Sam's bed. Sam was burrowed under the blankets, but his eyes were already on Dean, and Dean could tell that he had stayed awake while Dean had taken his turn to sleep.  
  
"Morning, Phil," Harry said, as he opened the door. Phil came into the room, carrying a small shoulder bag.   
  
"I have the information you requested, sir," Phil said, as Harry magicked his cot back into a pillow to make more space in the small hotel room.   
  
"What time is it?" Dean asked.  
  
"You probably don't want to know," Harry replied at the same time Sam said, "8am." Dean groaned.  
  
"My apologies for the early hour," Phil said, addressing Sam and Dean. "But Harry did ask that I be as discrete as possible in gathering this information, and the early morning is really the best time to be unnoticed at the Ministry. Especially when people know that you are working with an important British wizard who has not yet adjusted to the time difference."  
  
Dean managed an eyebrow raise and a shrug. Then pointed at Sam meaningfully and said, "You. Coffee. Now."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and tensed his jaw, but got out of bed. Dean smiled at him a little too widely.  
  
"I could ask one of our team to get it," Phil said.  
  
"Nah," Dean responded. "Sam could use a walk."  
  
Sam huffed and muttered, "It's fine, really, thanks," while he put on his shoes. Phil shrugged and turned his attention back to Harry. He opened the shoulder bag and began pulling out books. Dean furrowed his brow; the shoulder bag didn't even look big enough to hold two books, let alone...  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said, interrupting Dean's thoughts and blocking his view of the table.  
  
"Huh?" Dean said, wondering why people were expecting him to think before coffee.  
  
"I was about to wake you up just when he knocked, I swear. It's just that you haven't been getting much sleep lately..."   
  
Oh, Dean thought, Sam had noticed the nightmare.   
  
"'Sfine, Sam. Go get coffee," Dean said. Sam's forehead creased in worry, a look Dean hated, but thankfully Sam turned and headed out the door. Dean wondered how far he would go for coffee, just to see how large the perimeter was.  
  
Dean turned his attention back to the table and the towering stack of books and file-folders there. In less than two minutes, the wizards had turned their hotel room into a library and all they had used was a shoulder bag.  
  
"What the hell?" Dean said. "How...when..."  
  
"It's bigger on the inside," Harry answered without looking up from the stack of books that he was sorting.  
  
" _You're_  bigger on the inside..." Dean muttered, and then tried not to blush as Harry bit his lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh. Dean scrubbed at his face; he really shouldn't try making comebacks before his morning coffee.  
  
"I'mma shower," he mumbled and started making his way to the bathroom. Phil was still pulling books out of his bag like it was a library-clown-car.  
  
"Was that a normal nightmare, or should I widen the perimeter further?" Harry asked in a low calm voice, before Dean could enter the bathroom. Dean didn't stop walking, and he knew without looking that Harry wasn't looking at him anyway.   
  
"Normal," Dean said, and tried to ignore the fact that nothing about his life was normal. Oddly, he thought that Harry might already understand that.  
  
When Dean got out of the shower, Phil was gone and Sam was back with coffee and breakfast. He had also gotten some for Harry, and they were sitting at the table eating, while Harry pointed at different stacks of books around the room. The moment Harry opened his mouth, Dean wished he had remembered to bring his clean clothes into the bathroom with him.  
  
"Wow, and people think  _I_   have a weird scar."  
  
Dean glared, and Harry had the decency to look regretful for mentioning anything.   
  
Then, of course, Dean had to open up the whole can of worms by muttering, "Damn Cas and his damn hand..." as he rummaged through his duffle for clean clothes. He had figured that Sam would have been too preoccupied with the books to have heard.   
  
"Dean, an angel pulls you out of hell, the least you could do is be grateful," Sam chastised, looking genuinely angry at Dean, before taking another sip of his coffee.  
  
"You were touched by an angel?!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. Sam snorted coffee all over the book he was reading and started coughing and laughing at the same time.  
  
Dean grabbed his clothes, glared at Sam, and then stormed back into the bathroom to change. Why God had to choose him of all people to stop the fucking apocalypse, Dean didn't know, but he sure as hell wished right now that they had just killed him instead.  
  
*  
  
Harry's face was full of confusion.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said, and repeated, "Sorry, sorry..." as he tried to stop laughing and began to frantically dry the book off. Sam saw Harry pick up his wand and mutter something, and suddenly all the spilled coffee was gone and the book was dry.  
  
"Seriously, Sam," Harry said. "It's alright...but angels? That's how Dean got back?"  
  
Sam glanced towards the bathroom door and grimaced. "Yeah, angels, look...just don't talk about it, ok? Not with...he isn't..." Sam took a breath and tried not to sound to desperate. "He's going to kill me for mentioning it."  
  
"Alright," Harry said in an even placating tone, "but..."  
  
Sam tried not to openly shush Harry when he heard the bathroom door open again, but there was no need. Harry immediately cut himself off. Dean strolled out as if nothing had happened.   
  
"What's the plan?" Dean asked in a tone of voice that made this feel like just another case, just another Hunt.  
  
"Research," Harry and Sam both said together. Dean grabbed the third cup of coffee from the table, and took a long sip.  
  
"Mmm, still warm. Nice."  
  
"Warming charm," Harry replied. Sam smiled when Dean's eyebrow shot up. Personally, Sam could get used to having someone with Harry's talents around.  
  
"I sort of gathered there would be research," Dean said sarcastically, waving a hand to encompass the room full of books. "Where's Phil? Isn't he going to help?"   
  
"It's his off-shift. He has to sleep sometime," Harry answered, and then pointed to a number of books stacked on the bed. "Those stacks there are for you and Sam. They'll teach you everything you need to know about Dementors and other magical creatures that you might find interesting. Concentrate on the Dementors, we need to figure out what they are doing."  
  
"And what are you going to be doing?" Dean asked.  
  
"I'm going to be reading this stack of books and files," Harry continued, pointing to a large stack of books and papers next to his chair. "They concern advanced spellwork, so they'd read as gibberish to you two. I'll be trying to figure out how to protect you, so that we can go our separate ways without me having blood on my hands...or the wrath of God on my head."  
  
Sam almost told Harry that he didn't think God worked like that with Dean, otherwise why would God leave him so broken that he was practically defenseless; but Sam decided that he was better off just giving Harry a glare before he said, "Ok, let's get started."  
  
The rest of the morning was spent reading books. Dean and Sam sat on their beds trading books back and forth, depending on what they found. Dean's muttered, "Unicorns...it really is the apocalypse," made Sam smile, and he was happy that Harry was too engrossed in his own research to read too much into the comment.  
  
"You said that they've been controlled by a dark wizard before?" Sam stated to confirm. Harry closed the book he was reading,  _Muggles, Magic, and Mayham by Marvin Marlosh_ , and stretched out his back.  
  
"That's the general belief, but I don't think so, no," Harry replied, sighing. "I mean - I don't think they were controlled. I think they just, well,  _liked_  him."  
  
"It doesn't say anything in these books about motivations," Dean threw in. "You guys don't even seem to know whether the things have emotions. It's all life-cycles and history."  
  
"I know, and maybe they don't have emotions...but, hear me out," Harry replied. "Dementors feed on happiness, right? Well, then why would they join forces with someone who was going to make everyone miserable?"  
  
"But then..." Sam said, confused. "They'd have to be controlled then, wouldn't they? You'd have to make them do that."  
  
"No, that's just it," Harry said. "That's just why people believe it. But if happy people really provided more 'food', why would Dementors hang around a parking lot with you two?"  
  
Sam looked to Dean, just in time to see his jaw clench and his eyes move to the floor. Sam knew Dean had tried his best to give Sam a happy life, despite everything, but Harry had a point.  
  
"Why," Harry continued, "when I was thirteen, did Dementors ignore a whole school of happy children and come after me? It was years before Voldemort resurrected himself, years before the Ministry even thought of using them against me."  
  
Sam realized that Harry was mostly just talking to himself now.  
  
"I thought you said you worked for the Ministry?" Dean said, and Sam watched as Harry's eyes refocused on them.   
  
"Now," Harry replied. "Now I do. When I was young, things were different."  
  
"The Ministry sent those things after a kid?" Dean asked tersely. Sam wondered just how far Dean's protective streak went. Harry was their age, plus he had obviously survived; but then, Dean had always reacted badly when things happened to kids. It figured that time and outcome wouldn't matter to him.  
  
"I survived," Harry said evenly, seemingly catching on to Dean's mood. "I had already been through worse, which is my point, really. When I first encountered Dementors, I had already lost both my parents, been neglected and abused by my remaining family for thirteen years, been attacked by a teacher who was...possessed...by Voldemort, and had to defeat a basilisk and yet another remnant of Voldemort's soul. Not to mention the fact that there was supposedly a madman on the loose trying to kill me. My point is, I was a pretty miserable kid. So why would they come after me?"  
  
"A basilisk?" Sam replied, and then felt infinitely stupid for latching on to a part of the explanation that had nothing to do with Dementors. Sam looked over at Dean and discovered that Harry had really done nothing to quell his protective streak.  
  
"Your family  _abused_  you?!" Dean said, his fists clenched. Sam sighed at the same time as Harry. To Dean, the only thing worse than monsters attacking a kid, was a kid's family attacking a kid.  
  
"That's really inconsequential," Harry muttered. "Can we just focus on the point here?"  
  
"So, you're saying that Dementor behaviour is counter-intuitive," Sam immediately said, taking pity on Harry and forcing himself back into research mode. "They should go after happy people, because they have more...happiness. Except, in your experience, they tend to go after, umm, less happy people...so..."  
  
"So, I think they  _like_  breaking people," Harry continued for Sam. "They  _like_  going after people who barely have any happiness...maybe it's not about  _liking_  it, maybe they don't have emotions, maybe the small happiness of people with hard lives is somehow sweeter-tasting than the happiness of the happy." Harry grimaced at this thought. "I'm just saying, there's a possibility they weren't forcibly controlled. There's a possibility that they just chose to obey Voldemort because they knew he would give them what they wanted - they knew there would be more people to break."  
  
"It makes sense, but there's no way to prove it," Sam said.  
  
"I need to go for a drive," Dean suddenly said.  
  
"Dean?" Sam was embarrassed to admit that in his interest over Harry's theory, he had momentarily forgotten his brother was even in the room.  
  
"You two can stay here and talk about torture some more, but I'm going to go for a drive."   
  
Sam blanched. He had messed up. He hadn't been thinking.  
  
"Dean..." he started, just as Dean was getting to the door.  
  
"I'll come with you!" said Harry, interrupting Sam.  
  
"What?" Sam asked, just as Dean said the same.  
  
"I'm guessing your car is the big black one, right?" Harry said. "It looks like a great car, mate. I'd love a chance to get a look at her." Sam relaxed as Dean smiled slightly.   
  
"She  _is_  awesome. Grab your shoes, dude."  
  
"Brilliant," Harry said quickly. "Just let me put some of the more sensitive files away. I'll be out in two minutes, ok?"  
  
Dean nodded and left, ignoring Sam completely, but by now Sam was used to it.   
  
"Do you know anything about cars?" Sam asked Harry, once he was sure Dean was well away from the front of the door. Harry glanced up from shoving books and files into his bottomless shoulder bag.  
  
"Not a clue," he replied, "but your brother can't just drive off by himself right now"  
  
Sam was pretty impressed with how quickly Harry had thought on his feet. Harry slung the bag over his shoulder, and then took out his weird flip-phone again.  
  
"Deacon. Here. Now," Harry said evenly, and Sam had another brief flashback of his father. There was a loud crack, and suddenly a twenty-year-old skinny kid stood nervously shifting from foot to foot in front of the door.  
  
"Sir?"   
  
"Deacon, I'm going for a drive," Harry said.  
  
"A...drive?" Deacon replied.  
  
"In a car, yes," Harry said shortly, and then shook his head a little. "Where are the Dementors?"  
  
"They're still in the immediate area, sir," Deacon reported. "Of course, it's daylight, so they aren't as active, but..."  
  
"Thanks, Deacon," Harry cut him off. "Tell me if there's any change. I'm not sure how long I'll be."  
  
"Yessir."   
  
"Oh, and Deacon?" Harry added smiling. "This is my good friend, Sal."  
  
Deacon turned towards Sam finally, and Sam had to stop himself from laughing at the way the kid's eyes widened at Sam's size. Deacon was obviously intimidated by Harry, but at least Harry was short. Sam could only guess what was going through Deacon's mind.  
  
"Nice to meet you, sir," Deacon said, and stretched out a hand bravely.  
  
"You too, Deacon," Sam said kindly, and made sure to use the smile that seemed to put people at ease around him. "Thanks for the help with all this."   
  
"Uh, it's...no problem," Deacon stammered. There was a loud honk from the parking lot, and Harry grinned.  
  
"I'm off, then!" He said, already running out the door. "Deacon you can go back to ..."  
  
Harry's voice faded off into nothing, and for a second Deacon looked a bit confused.  
  
"I think Harry meant that you can go back to whatever you were doing before he called you," Sam supplied. "I've got things covered here."  
  
"Oh, right. Umm..." Deacon hesitated, "...did you really meet Mr. Potter during the war?"   
  
"Yeah," Sam replied, remembering their cover story.  
  
"What was it like?" Deacon asked cautiously. Sam knew what he wanted. He wanted some tale of bravery about Harry, some account of the trials of war, maybe some information about his commander that no-one else knew, or maybe he was worried about the future and wanted to know what might come. Sam couldn't give him any of those things. Sam hadn't really been there, after all. What Sam did have, though, was a father that had been to Vietnam and then waged his own personal war for the last 23 years of his life.   
  
"It was war, Deacon," Sam said somberly. "Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some reading to do."  
  
"Yessir, sorry, sir," Deacon practically whispered. Sam made sure to give him a smile before Deacon turned on the spot and disappeared.  
  
Sam looked at all the books, wished briefly that Harry had left the advanced ones behind, and then figured he might as well start his next round of research by looking up how to kill a basilisk and what a Voldemort was.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean squealed the tires as he pulled out of the parking lot, and grinned at Harry.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked.  
  
Harry was so glad he had managed to read the Winchester file that morning while the two Hunters had been preoccupied with reading about Dementors.   
  
"It's beautiful, mate," Harry said enthusiastically. "How long have you had it?" Harry knew, of course, that the car had to have been in their family for years if  _wizards_  had actually taken note of it.  
  
"My Dad bought it in the 70's; you should have seen it sitting there in the sunshine on the lot..." Dean smiled nostalgically, much to Harry's confusion. "He was there to buy a van, a _van_! When the Impala was sitting right there next to it. It didn't take much to convince him, sure, but the fact that he was going to buy that crazy hippie van still astounds me sometimes..." Dean glanced over, waiting for Harry's response, and caught the expression on his face, then added "...or so the story goes."  
  
"It's in great shape for such an old car," Harry replied, hoping he wasn't provoking a technical discussion that he wouldn't understand. Dean smiled proudly, but then the smile seemed to falter a bit.  
  
"I had to rebuild her practically from scratch a couple years ago," Dean explained. "But now I guess she has a new lease on life. New parts...all the old kinks gone..."   
  
Harry frowned as Dean trailed off and ran a hand gently down the edge of the steering wheel. Dean didn't start talking again, instead he just stared morosely out the front window. Harry knew they were well past the perimeter, and had hoped that the car talk would be enough to keep Dean's better memories in focus, but it obviously wasn't working.   
  
Harry took out his wand and hung his arm casually over the back of his seat. Pointing the wand at the floor, he thought about Ginny and the boys waiting for him at home, and whispered, " _Expecto Patronum,_ " The stag materialized on the back seat, curled in on itself to fit in the space.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL? What did you do?! What's that?" Dean sputtered, looking frantically in the rear view mirror and then over his shoulder.  
  
"Calm down," Harry said. "It's my Patronus. We needed it."  
  
Dean stopped looking frantic, instead he just looked angry, and Harry was starting to think maybe he was safer when Dean was depressed. He needed the car talk back, the casualness of the drive, before Harry ruined it by trying to protect Dean. He needed Dean to forget that there was a magic blue glowing stag crammed onto the back seat of his car.   
  
"When I was young, my friend's father had this old Ford," Harry started. "It was blue - a Ford Anglia. Anyway, my friend's father was a wizard, right, so he didn't really understand about cars...he put all these charms on it."  
  
"Wizards don't drive cars?" Dean asked, as though he were disgusted by the very thought. Harry laughed.  
  
"No, and believe me, I'd prefer if we did sometimes. All our methods of transportation are highly uncomfortable," Harry grimaced. "My friend and I ended up driving the car into a tree one day. I think the car was pretty furious. It spat us out and then drove off without us, but it was a right nice car." Harry smiled, remembering the way the tail lights had disappeared into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"It drove off  _without_  you?" Dean exclaimed, as though the car had personally insulted him. Harry wasn't sure if he should be concerned or amused. He did know that Dean had completely forgotten about the stag in the back seat, and he was glad about that. It took a lot of concentration to get a Patronus to linger so long, but the Patronus charm had oddly become one of Harry's specialties - yet another reason the American Ministry had asked for his assistance.  
  
"Strange things can happen sometimes when you put too many charms on an object," Harry explained. "They can sometimes develop a mind of their own." Harry knew he had made a mistake somewhere when Dean's eyes widened considerably.  
  
"You magicked Sam's bed!" Dean said, horror-struck. Harry couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. Dean's brow furrowed and he started looking more annoyed than worried again.  
  
"Sam's bed is fine," Harry said once he had got control of himself. "That's transfiguration, not charms. I know you don't know the difference but, believe me, there's a big one. You have nothing to worry about."  
  
Dean seemed to relax at that, and Harry turned his attention to the scenery. He had been to the States once after the war, but never this part of it. It was beautiful. Harry thought of Ginny and his boys, and the baby, and Teddy, continuing to concentrate on maintaining the stag in the back seat. It was difficult, but Harry had had a lot of practice - someone had needed to corral the Dementors after the War and the amount of breeding that had taken place hadn't made the job easy. The trick was to keep feeding the Patronus happy thoughts when it started to weaken or your attention was divided.  
  
"It's really beautiful," Dean said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, I've never been to this part of the States before," Harry said, still gazing out the window.  
  
"No, I mean your buck," Dean said, with a hint of embarrassment. Harry turned his attention back to the inside of the car - at the way Dean kept glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds. Harry turned and looked at the stag, which lifted its head to meet his gaze.  
  
"Thanks," Harry replied. "It's my Dad." Harry saw Dean whip his head around to stare open mouthed at Harry, so he quickly continued. "Well, it's not  _actually_  him. It's a...representation. My Dad was an animagus - that means that he could turn into an animal at will. His animal was the stag. I never really knew my Dad, but my Patronus is a stag because of him."  
  
"So, let me understand this," Dean said, slowly. "That means that if I had a Patronus, it would look like a dude with a five-day beard?"  
  
Harry laughed again. "No, it would be an animal that represented you. I suppose that's what mine is - I just like to think of it as being a connection to my father."  
  
"Huh," Dean said, then winked at Harry. "Too bad my Patronus can't be a car."  
  
Harry huffed a laugh in response, and kept the words ' _Too bad you can't have one at all_ ' to himself. They were silent for a moment, before Dean spoke up again.  
  
"So, wizards don't drive cars," Dean started, still with a tone of disbelief. "Do they at least know something about classic rock?" Harry bit his lip, thinking about how very little Wizards knew about Muggle culture. Apparently, his silence was answer enough. "Ok..." Dean continued, "I'm about to give you an education, then." Dean grinned wickedly at Harry, as he pulled a dilapidated shoebox out from under the front seat, filled with what Harry recognized as cassette tapes. "I'd like to introduce you to a little band called Led Zeppelin."  
  
Dean chose to have the music speak for itself, and they lapsed into silence. Harry liked the music. He had never had a chance when he was young to listen to anything other than what filtered through the walls of Dudley's room. When he was at school and afterward, he was in the Wizarding World, and only knew Wizard bands.   
  
Harry let the music wash over him as he thought about the Winchesters. The Ministry file had been sparse with information, though unsurprisingly it knew more than the Muggle government did. For instance, the Ministry knew that the Winchesters were still alive. They just didn't seem to know  _how_  they were still alive.   
  
The file was also sparse when it came to family history, mostly focusing on Sam and Dean, rather than their father. Their mother had been killed by demon fire, then not much information besides the words "no permanent residence" written just before the words "Jessica Moore dies by demon fire - Samuel Winchester drops out of school" and then a spattering of place names across the country, until a short description of John Winchester's sudden death after a car accident and Dean's miraculous recovery.  
  
 _Dean cheats death once, for reasons unknown_ , Harry thought,  _twice due to angels?_  
  
The report didn't know about the angels. It was silent on the boys activities for almost a whole year, besides the bits where the boys attracted the attention of the Muggle authorities. Then there was a vague note about a devil's gate, a few more instances of incarceration and subsequent escape or faked-death, and then the note: "May 18th, 2008 - Dean Winchester dies. Samuel Winchester's whereabouts unknown."   
  
And the fact that it was mentioned in finality, meant that they had started compiling the file after that, not before. All other apparent deaths were phrased as just "Dean Winchester considered dead by Muggle authorities," or "Dean and Samuel Winchester assumed by Muggle authorities to have perished in explosion."  
  
So what about Dean's death would cause the Wizarding world to start keeping files on two Hunters? Usually, the files on Hunters consisted of their name, age, and address (if they had one). The note on Dean's return was even more confusing, "September 18th, 2008 - Dean Winchester alive. American Department of Mysteries Investigation Classified."  
  
After that, it was obvious that the Auror Department had depended largely on scrying to gather information. The entries were written in the vague language of Divination: "The son returns to the parents - removed for an unbound instant. He witnesses."  
  
In the end, though, what worried Harry the most was the bold order stamped on the page underneath the usual warnings about how dangerous Hunters were: "If Seen Contact the American Department of Mysteries."  
  
If it was the Aurors that wanted the Winchesters, Harry would have understood. It would mean that the Winchesters had killed a wizard or a witch. It would mean that they were a danger to the magical community. But the Department of Mysteries... Harry didn't know what to think of that. He thought of the faint scars on Ron's arms, the bulky frame of a grown man with a crying baby-head, and the Veil...the Veil that blew so gently in an invisible breeze, that whispered things to him...the Veil that he had watched Sirius fall into never to be seen again...  
  
"Uh, Harry?"  
  
Harry blinked and came back into himself, remembering that he was in a car with Dean Winchester. The strains of a particularly melodic guitar solo spilled from the old speakers.   
  
"Huh? Sorry...yes?" Harry asked. He saw Dean look nervously at him.   
  
"Your deer's gone," Dean said. "It just...well, faded..."  
  
Harry glaced at the empty back seat and cursed himself. Of course it had faded, he had let himself get distracted, let himself think of those years...  
  
"How long ago?" Harry asked. "How long ago did it vanish?"  
  
"Just a couple minutes," Dean answered. "I noticed it fading, then I didn't look back for a bit, but when I did it was gone. I wasn't sure if you had done it on purpose, man...but then, well, you looked kind of out of it."  
  
Harry looked intently out the window at the low hanging clouds; he couldn't see them, but it was getting worse. Dean seemed to pick up on his concern.  
  
"Are they there?" Dean asked in a low professional tone.  
  
"How do you feel?" Harry asked in return. Of all people, Dean should be able to tell without asking.  
  
"I think they're there. It's not as bad as before, but, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but just now you looked like someone had killed your puppy," Dean replied with a small smirk.  
  
"Actually, you aren't far off," Harry said, huffing a mirthless laugh. He could cast a Patronus again, but he wasn't sure whether he could hold onto it for long enough - it was rather exhausting. He needed some other way to keep both of them from downward thought-spirals.  
  
"Hey, Dean," Harry said casually. "How about we pick up lunch for all of us and head back to the hotel."  
  
"Yeah, ok," Dean said, a little too subdued for Harry's liking.  
  
"And on the way," Harry continued with a smile, "I want you to teach me everything I need to know about all these rock bands, including your favorite songs and why you like them. Obviously, I've been missing something amazing, because this stuff is bloody brilliant."  
  
Dean smiled broadly, and started immediately, "Well, this song we're listening to is called Ramblin' Man..."  
  
Harry focused intently on what Dean was telling him, and how he was telling it to him, and the light behind his eyes and the ease of his smile. Harry still didn't know much about the Winchesters, but he knew that he had to find a way to protect them. Harry had survived this long by reading people well, learning his lessons the hard way sometimes, but he was confident that the Winchesters were not a threat to the Wizarding World - not as long as they were properly educated about it. What Harry wasn't so sure about was whether or not the Wizarding World was a danger to the Winchesters.  
  
*   
  
"So Lars just decided that he didn't like guitar solos? I mean, that's sort of odd, isn't it? The whole genre seems basically made for guitars," Sam heard Harry say, as Dean shouldered the door open.   
  
"Oh, God," Sam moaned to himself, "he's converting him..."  
  
Dean heard Sam and winked. "I can't help if it the guy has taste, Sam." He placed some takeout containers on the table. "Now quit whining. We brought you lunch."  
  
Much to Sam's dismay, Harry and Dean kept up the music talk most of the way through lunch; they even talked about the car a bit, too. Sam was beginning to suspect that Harry was  _genuinely_  interested, and hadn't just been pretending in order to make sure his brother was alright, which was why he felt he had to ask, even though he knew it would kill the mood...  
  
"How did the drive go? I mean, how was it once you got past the perimeter?"   
  
Dean scowled and Harry looked disappointed, and that was really all the answer Sam needed.  
  
"We've got to figure this out," Harry said, placing his fork off to one side and pulling out that weird communication device of his. "I'm going to call one of my men in," Harry informed Dean and Sam. He wasn't asking if it was alright, he was just warning them. Sam realized that, when it came right down to it, Harry didn't need their permission to do anything; the fact that he had asked it of them the night before was probably just out of courtesy.  
  
"Deacon," Harry said, looking down at the flip-phone-thingy, "report, please."  
  
A soft popping noise and Deacon was in the room with them, standing in the same spot he had occupied earlier.  
  
"Deacon, this is my friend, Dirk," Harry introduced.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Deacon said, offering his hand to Dean. Dean said something around a mouthful of food that may or may not have been, "You too, man."   
  
"Was there any movement while I was gone?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yessir, there was a small faction that..." Deacon paused, a bemused expression flitting over his face. "Well, they started moving shortly after you left. Their flight patterns were a little hard to follow, but, they seemed to...well, I can't be certain, sir..."  
  
"Spit it out, Deacon," Harry commanded.  
  
"There's a possibility they were following you, sir," Deacon said, and Sam wondered why he seemed so reluctant to believe what he was saying.   
  
"Shit," Harry swore. Sam's mind was already working on possible explanations; if the Dementors were following Harry, maybe them being in the same place as Harry was the problem and that solved it. Then Sam caught the look on Dean's face and realized that he was being an idiot. Dean had been with Harry the whole time, and the whole reason Harry had come to the States was because the Dementors were already there.  
  
"Shit," Sam echoed.  
  
Dean swallowed his mouthful of food, and calmly pushed his plate to one side. Sam found himself getting annoyed at Dean's non-reaction. These things were obviously after him, and he just seemed resigned rather than angry. Sam was angry. Hadn't Dean been through enough?  
  
His attention was brought back to Deacon when the kid shifted on his feet and spoke up again. It was obvious that he was worried about being the bearer of bad news.  
  
"But, sir, it doesn't even make sense," Deacon said, and Sam wondered if his own voice had ever sounded that young and innocent. "Movement like that would imply motive, and none of the books...Dementors don't..."   
  
"You're right," Harry interrupted. "It would imply motive and Dementors don't work on motive, they work on orders or on hunger. So, either someone ordered them to follow me, or it was simply movement due to hunger and it was purely a coincidence that I was in that direction. Thanks for the report Deacon, you may go."  
  
Deacon nodded, turned, and disappeared in front of them.   
  
"I have to talk to Phil," Harry said, standing. "I'll be back shortly." Before Sam could open his mouth, Harry had already disappeared with a crack of the air.  
  
Silence hung in the room for a moment. Dean was staring at the clouds out the window. Sam's mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what any of this meant.  
  
"What'd you find out about Harry while we were gone?" Dean asked suddenly, as if Deacon's report had never taken place and they were still working off their plan from last night.   
  
"Most of these books are just about magical creatures, but there are a few general history ones," Sam replied, sighing at Dean's unwavering ability to ignore the elephant in the room. "It seems everything he's told us so far is true. Also, he's some sort of big shot for wizards. He defeated one 'Lord Voldemort' when he was, get this, _one year old_ , and then again when he was seventeen...that second time is the war that he talked about. Apparently, this Voldemort guy was pretty evil. According to the short article on Harry in one of the books, other names for Harry are 'The Boy Who Lived' and - I swear I'm not kidding - 'The Chosen One.' "  
  
"The Chosen One?!" Dean said disbelievingly. "Bit melodramatic, don't you think?"   
  
"Ha, yeah," Sam replied.  
  
"So, his story checks out according to the books that he  _gave_  us," Dean replied. Sam had to shrug at that.  
  
"It's all we have to go on." He didn't like it any more than Dean, really, but they were low on options. "I think it's true," Sam continued. "I mean, there's the way both Phil and Deacon treat him - like he's...well, like they  _revere_  him."  
  
"Yeah," Dean replied. "I've noticed. Plus, the guy seems to know what he's doing...and, if he was out to harm us, he had plenty of opportunity during the car ride. Had his wand out and everything, but he only used it to make that deer of his."  
  
"He summoned the deer?" Sam asked, slightly jealous that Dean had gotten a good look at the deer that Sam had only glimpsed.  
  
"Yeah, it sat in the back seat for a while, then faded," Dean answered. "I don't think he meant to have it fade, he seemed pretty pissed off at himself about it. It was those Dementor things, though - and that's the other thing - they seem to affect him pretty bad, too. You should have seen the look on his face...it was like he was all alone in the world."  
  
Sam swallowed. They both knew exactly what that feeling was like. Just as Sam was about to ask what happened next, something on the table started to glow, and a muffled female voice said "Harry?"  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at where Harry had been sitting.   
  
"Harry left his cell behind..." Dean suddenly said in realization, just as the voice spoke Harry's name again. "Dude, who sets up their phone to say their name?" Dean picked up Harry's 'phone', just as Sam replied, "Dean, I don't think that's a phone."  
  
But Dean had already flipped it open; a saucy smirk found its way to his lips and Sam leveled a glare at him...  
  
"Well, hello there," Dean said. "What's Harry doing with a girl like you in his pocket?"   
  
"Where's my husband?" the voice said, and Sam smiled as Dean's lecherous smirk vanished.  
  
* *  
  
"Phil," Harry said as soon as he apparated into the dark room. He flicked on the bedside lamp and shook Phil's shoulder. "Phil, wake up."  
  
Phil's eyes opened a crack and met Harry's and suddenly he was scrambling up into a sitting position.  
  
"Harry? I mean, sir...I mean, Harry...what is it?"  
  
"I need to know whether you knew about the protocol with the Winchesters. I need to know whether you contacted the Department of Mysteries," Harry replied unapologetically.   
  
"I knew, and no, I didn't," Phil responded glumly. "I...you said no one was to know who was with you. And, well, it's the squad commander's job to report to the Ministry, and although you don't have official rank over here, you are technically our acting squad commander. Not to mention the fact that you are Harry fucking Potter... If you want to report that I neglected protocol, then go ahead, but so did you, you fucker...and I thought we had an understanding..."  
  
Harry laughed, Phil always rambled when you caught him off guard, not to mention the inability to censor his language when he was tired. It was something that had amused Harry, when they had done field training together. The new spirit of international co-operation after the war had meant international field training exercises - and everyone had wanted a chance to do a rotation with Harry Potter, but Phil was one of the only people that Harry really hit it off with. It was mainly because their particular training exercise had them staying awake for three days straight. Phil had quickly become the foul-mouthed rambling sailor that he truly was deep down, and Harry had loved that there was still someone in the world who would could call him a "fucking British asshole" when Harry accidentally stepped on his foot.  
  
"Phil, Phil..." Harry laughed, "Shut up, mate. You did good. Only why didn't you tell me about the Department of Mysteries right away? Why'd you wait for me to read it?"  
  
"Damn, Ha- sir...I didn't want to tell you in front of them," Phil answered, "and the only time we were alone, you asked for the file anyway, and then ran off to talk to the team."  
  
"Ok," Harry said. "Now the question is...do you know WHY the Department of Mysteries, Phil? Do you know what the talk is?"  
  
"I wish I knew, Harry...sir," Phil said, and Harry could tell he was waking up fully. "Only the higher-ups know. The rest of the team might recognize the name if they heard it - they'd know to report it to their commander, but they wouldn't know why. I knew about the order because I'm usually squad commander...but I don't know why either - that's higher up than I am. That's  _your_  level. Whatever it is, it's big, Harry."  
  
"I was afraid of that," Harry sighed. "Phil... the Dementors are following them. Without the team, I couldn't hold a Patronus long enough to keep them safe. I don't know what they're mixed up in but, whatever it is, the Dementor behaviour is part of it. I need to figure this out."  
  
"The Department of Mysteries..." Phil started to say.  
  
"Cannot. Be. Told." Harry finished with finality. Phil pursed his lips.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"Please, Phil...I have a bad feeling about this. You know what happens when Wizards try to interfere with Hunters. I can't trust the Unspeakables with this...I just can't...those blokes are so  _removed_  from everything, they only work in theories...plus, I think the Winchesters trust me. If I were to turn them in now, it could bring a world of trouble down on our heads."  
  
"You're right, of course, but maybe the Department of Mysteries knows what's going on..."  
  
"They definitely know more than we do," Harry agreed, "but that doesn't mean that we have to turn in the Winchesters to find out. We just need access to their files."  
  
Phil's eyes widened. "Are you seriously asking me to break into the Department of Mysteries?"  
  
"I don't know what I'm asking," Harry sighed. "Maybe I'm just telling you what we need to be thinking about."  
  
Phil flopped back on the mattress, his eyes searching, Harry wondered if perhaps he thought he could divine an answer out of the speckled paint patterns on the ceiling.  
  
"Well, I know one thing, sir," Phil said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm not going to be getting much sleep now," Phil sighed.  
  
"Sorry, Phil," Harry tried to say seriously, but he was grinning far too hard.  
  
"Do you remember what I said to you, the fourth time you poked me awake on that endurance run outside of Perth?" Phil asked.  
  
"The fourth time?" Harry pondered. "Was that the time you said..." Harry did his best to put on an American accent: "'Mr. Potter, I respect you a great deal and I'm thankful that you saved all our lives, but if you keep me awake any longer I will break your fucking neck and dance on your grave'?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the one," Phil said. "Sorry about that...but anyway, my point is...could you please get out of my room and leave me alone to wallow in my sleepless misery?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Sorry for waking you, Phil, but you know you make it far too much fun for me."  
  
"You're a bastard, sir," Phil replied, just before Harry turned on the spot and returned to the Winchesters' room.  
  
"Seriously? I didn't think it was possible for a woman to have three kids and look as good as you..." Dean was saying. Harry looked at him in confusion and then spotted the smooth silver of his flip mirror. Realization dawned in slow horror, just as Harry caught the 'oh shit' expression on Sam's face, and the teasing smirk appear on Dean's face.  
  
"Harry, man, you shouldn't neglect a girl like this, someone's liable to steal her away from you..." Dean said with a wink, as Harry crossed over to him in quick strides and snatched the mirror out of his hands.  
  
"Give me that," Harry said, holding the mirror to his chest. Dean put up his hands up in mock surrender and laughed.   
  
Slowly, Harry looked down to see how mad Ginny was. Surprisingly, she didn't look mad at all but, upon recognizing the blush that graced her face, Harry decided that he would much prefer it if she were.  
  
"Gin?" Harry said curiously.  
  
"Hi Harry," Ginny replied. "So, who's your new American friend?"


	8. Chapter 8

Harry glared at Dean and then disappeared into the small bathroom.  
  
"I can't believe you were flirting with the man's wife, Dean," Sam said. "Do you really think that was a good idea?"  
  
"Of course I think it was a good idea, Sam," Dean replied, the smirk he had given Harry still on his face. "We now know that Harry has a beautiful red-haired wife, and three little kiddies at home."  
  
"I can't believe you're justifying it as research." Sam rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous."  
  
"Ah, come on, Sammy. Don't you feel like you can trust a family man more than some strange loner."   
  
Sam considered it for a moment. He had been treating Harry as a Hunter, but it was true that most Hunters didn't have kids.   
  
"Because he has something to lose?" Sam wondered aloud.   
  
Dean gave him an odd look. "Because he has people who rely on him."  
  
Sam nodded. He figured they were both right.  
  
"Do you know how wide their perimeter is?" Dean asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Sam had forgotten about his reconnaissance mission that morning when he was sent out for breakfast. They hadn't had a chance to talk alone until now. "I walked to the diner about a block and a half away. The perimeter is pretty wide, but I thought I saw some shadows shifting oddly about two blocks past the diner. I don't know how they're keeping an area that size clear in only shifts of three, but my guess is that this hotel is dead centre, with a radius of about five city blocks."  
  
"Damn," Dean swore. "I sort of figured we were screwed when I went for my drive and could only make it about ten minutes away from the hotel before I felt..."  
  
Dean trailed off and Sam didn't bother pressing him further. There was no way around it. They were dependent on these wizards and Sam didn't like it any more than Dean did.  
  
In the resulting silence, Sam heard Harry say, muffled through the bathroom door, 'I'll be home as soon as I can, James. I love you. Be good for your mother.' Sam glanced at the closed door and saw Dean do the same out of the corner of his eye. It was weird to think of Harry as a parent. He was the same age as him and Dean.  
  
Dean cleared his throat, snapping Sam's attention back to him.   
  
"Come on, we have reading to do," Dean said. "Get the laptop and see if you can find anything from Hunters on this, anything at all. Try British sources."  
  
Sam grabbed the laptop off the bedside table and had it booted up by the time Harry came out of the bathroom.  
  
"So..." Dean said, smirk back in place, though Sam could tell that this time it was forced. "How are the wife and kids?"  
  
"I can't believe you were flirting with my wife," Harry replied tersely, but then continued with a genuine answer, "and she's fine, thanks. Once I convinced her that the charming Hunters I was working with weren't going to murder me and my family."   
  
"Whoa," Dean said, smirk fading. "I would never...why would she even..."  
  
"You're Hunters," Harry said. "There are stories...I believe you  _did_  threaten to 'gank' me when you heard what I was."  
  
"He's got you there, Dean," Sam said, and smiled.   
  
"Yeah, yeah..." Dean mumbled, and then smirked again. "Your wife really is gorgeous though, dude. You should have seen her, Sam. Kids must be adorable."  
  
Sam shook his head at Dean, and then smiled when Harry ducked his head as if embarrassed.   
  
"They are," Harry said. "Would you, uh...like to see a picture?"   
  
"You got one?" Dean replied. Harry nodded and picked up the shoulder bag he had thrown on the floor by the table. Sam put the computer to one side and stood to hover over Dean's shoulder, as Harry handed over a small photograph.  
  
"Hey! It's moving!" Dean exclaimed. Sure enough, there was Harry and a pretty red-haired woman, standing in front of an odd lopsided looking house....smiling and waving, and trying to keep one of the kids from running off the edge of the picture.  
  
"Wizard photography," Harry stated, as if that explained everything. "That's my wife, Ginny...and those are the kids, obviously."  
  
The kid that was trying to run out of the picture looked to be around four, and had red hair like his mother. A slightly younger boy stood calmly by Harry's side, and had the same wild black hair and pure green eyes that Harry did, but no glasses. Ginny had one hand on the back of the four year-old's collar, and she held a small bundle of baby firmly in the crook of her other arm. There was also a young kid in the picture, probably around ten or eleven, who didn't look anything like Harry or his wife, and whose hair kept changing from mousy brown, to black, to red, and...was that blue?  
  
"I thought your wife said that you guys had three kids..." Dean stated, obviously wondering the same thing as Sam.   
  
"We do; our kids are the three youngest," Harry explained, leaning over the picture so that he could point. "James is four. He's the one that's trying to run away. Albus is three," here Harry pointed to the calm kid that was the spitting image of him, "and the baby is Lily. The eleven-year-old is my godson, Teddy. His parents were killed in the War, so I help his Grandmother look after him."  
  
"Why is his hair doing that?" Sam asked. There was only a small pause before Harry answered.  
  
"He's a Metamorphmagus," Harry said. "He still has trouble keeping the hair still sometimes."  
  
"A Meta-what?" Dean asked. Harry sighed, and pulled the picture back out of Dean's hands. Sam was surprised to realize that Harry seemed nervous all of a sudden.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Harry answered. "It's not important."  
  
"Ok...cute kids, dude," Dean replied, and Sam figured he must have picked up on Harry's reluctance to explain Teddy any further, because he went ahead and diffused the situation the only way Dean knew how. "And I believe I already mentioned how smokin' your wife is. Ginny, right? ...Nice name."  
  
Harry huffed and slipped the picture away. In the small moment of silence that followed, Sam thought of walking in Dean's dream - of seeing that woman talking about picking a kid up later, the picnic all laid out.  
  
"So, what'd you talk to Phil about?" Sam asked, decidedly derailing his own thoughts and making a point not to look at Dean.  
  
"The damn Dementors," Harry grumbled, pulling books out of his shoulder bag, and slipping back into research mode. "They're too...it can't be a coincidence they're here. Some of them  _followed_  Dean and me when we went on that drive. Either they are being ordered to stalk and kill you, or they are here because of something you two are involved in that is of benefit to them...though, how they knew to come here from Europe is beyond me."   
  
Harry rubbed a hand through his hair and then looked directly at Sam and Dean, his green eyes suddenly as intense as they had been the previous night.   
  
"I need you to tell me what you two are wrapped up in," Harry stated in the professional tone that reminded Sam of his father. Sam looked nervously at Dean, whose eyes had grown hard, the line between his eyebrows growing deep.  
  
 _Maybe we should tell him,_  Sam thought,  _not everything, just a little. God, not everything..._  
  
Dean caught Sam's eye and shook his head, and then answered Harry.  
  
"Listen, man, I wish we could," he said, "but we're just Hunters...killing as many evil sons of bitches as we can. I think we should stop asking why these things are here, and just figure out how to protect ourselves. Sometimes it's just random evil, and there is no answer."  
  
"I see," Harry said, and Sam had the feeling that he really did - that he knew full well that Dean was purposefully not telling him anything. Sam bit back a sigh. If the Dementors  _were_  being controlled, then Sam had a good idea who might be behind it, and if they could somehow use these wizards against her...at the very least, Harry might have knowledge that'd be helpful. It wasn't right to shut him out when he was trying to help them.  
  
"Could it be a demon?" Sam heard himself say.  
  
"Sam..." Dean dragged out his name as if it were more than one syllable.   
  
"Could it be a demon?" Sam repeated, making a point to completely ignore the way Dean was glaring at him, the way his fists were clenched.  
  
"Controlling the Dementors you mean?" Harry asked, and Sam could see the way his whole body was still, ready, responding to the sudden tension in the room.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said.  
  
"To be honest, I don't know," Harry answered in genuine disappointment. "Like I said before, there's a possibility they aren't even being controlled; they could just choose to be here...but then, they could be here because of a demon, that's a possibility."  
  
Sam nodded. "There's this demon - Lilith..."  
  
"Sam!" Dean spoke in a tight voice. "Shut the hell up."  
  
"No!" Sam's temper broke. "If it's Lilith then that means she's up to something, and if she's up to something, then we've got to stop her! This could be  _important,_ Dean. This could be another...you know."  
  
"If it were, Cas would have told me!" Dean said.  
  
"Listen," Sam said, consciously lowering his voice. "I could ask Ruby; she might now something."  
  
"NO!" Dean started standing and throwing his arms up in frustration. "FOR FU-"  
  
"WHY NOT?" Sam interrupted, coming to stand in front of Dean, "If Lilith sent those Dementors after you, then she's planning something - or at LEAST trying to kill you - and I for one would rather see  _her_  head roll rather than yours!"  
  
"Lilith is not behind EVERYTHING! If this were a seal, Cas would have TOLD me."  
  
"She's still trying to kill us!"  
  
"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF IT'S HER! You can't just go running into this situation blind, Sam! We've got to figure out how to protect ourselves."  
  
"And meanwhile, more time passes when we COULD be ENDING this ONCE AND FOR ALL!"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Sam and Dean both whipped their heads towards Harry in surprise. Sam had completely forgotten he was there; the further surprise had been the deep timbre of his voice. There was no way a voice like that came out of such a small guy.  
  
Harry stood with his left hand raised in a halting sign, his right arm loose, but holding his wand at his side. An invisible wind had left his hair ruffled, blown back off his forehead to reveal that odd old scar. Both Sam and Dean were breathing heavily, hearts pounding from the fight and the tension in the room, but for a second time Sam was surprised to find himself obeying Harry on instinct.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said, lowering his hand. "Sit down, please."  
  
Sam chanced a glance at Dean, at the same moment that Dean threw him an indiscernible look, then an almost imperceptible roll of the shoulders, and Dean turned and sat back down. Sam could still see the anger in Dean's jaw, and could feel it in his own veins, but he too just pursed his lips and sank onto the edge of the bed.  
  
"Alright," Harry continued, only then sitting down himself. "Now, I agree with both of you. Our first order of business should be to find out how to protect you two against Dementors - because for  _whatever_  reason they are here, they are interested in you. So, I'm going to continue researching the advanced spell books and see if I can come up with anything. Now...I also think that Sam has a point; just because umm...Cas? hasn't warned you about whatever this is, doesn't mean we should assume that it's not connected to this Lilith demon. Therefore, we should also try to find out if Dementors can be controlled by demons, or if they are allying themselves with demons. So, I'm putting you two in charge of researching any and all Dementor-Demon connections. If you need more books, or certain titles, let me know and I'll send one of my men for them."  
  
Harry paused, leveling a significant look at both Sam and Dean. "Now, are we good?"  
  
Sam nodded in response, and looked at Dean. Dean's response was to pick up the nearest book, level Harry with a glare, and stalk over to the other bed to read. Sam knew that Dean would most likely give him the silent treatment for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
"Excellent," Harry mumbled. "This will be a relaxing afternoon."   
  
Sam almost felt sorry for Harry. He was more used to Dean getting angry with him. It seemed to happen more and more since Dean had returned. Hell had messed Dean up so much, Sam was mainly just worried about him. Killing Lilith as quickly as possible would mean less suffering for Dean. Sam just wished that he had been able to kill her  _before_  Dean's deal had come due; then Dean wouldn't be so broken now.  
  
Sam picked the laptop back up and started researching. Maybe there were some UK-specific demonology books out there.  
  
*  
  
It was Dean who broke the silence as they got close to dinner.   
  
"Your boy Ted is a Shifter, isn't he?"   
  
Harry stilled. Sam cast a nervous glance towards Dean, surprised at the sudden revelation.  
  
"It's not the same," Harry replied calmly. "It's different for wizards."  
  
"You were afraid to tell us," Dean continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. "Did you think we would fly to England and kill him?"  
  
Sam realized then that Dean was offended. Mister _It's-Not-Human_  was offended that Harry would be concerned about Dean killing a Shifter. It really was the apocalypse.  
  
"He's like a son to me," Harry replied, looking across the room towards Dean. "Wouldn't you worry? Wouldn't you be reluctant to tell a pair of Hunters that your kid wasn't exactly normal?"  
  
Sam kept still, but saw the glance that Dean threw at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Yeah, I would," Dean said quietly, then cleared his throat and continued in a lighter tone. "So, I take it Wizard-Shifters aren't evil, then? That's good to know, in case I ever run into one."  
  
"Metamorphmagus," Harry corrected. "It's different."  
  
"Gotcha," Dean said, and then turned his attention back to the book he was reading. The room fell back into silence, and Sam's attention drifted back to the laptop screen.  
  
"Werewolves, too," Harry suddenly said, breaking the silence again.  
  
"Come again?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Wizard-Werewolves. They're different. It's...well, treatable," Harry answered. "Teddy's father was a werewolf. It's not the easiest life, but he managed it. Never killed anyone as far as I know...got married, had a kid..."  
  
Sam couldn't help but think of Madison - the tear-tracks on her face, the weight of the trigger, the sound her body made when it hit the floor, her wide blank eyes.  
  
"It's not treatable for us, though, is it?" Dean asked, while Sam tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and quell his panic at the thought that he had shot her when there was another solution.  
  
"No," Harry responded, "so, you know, don't feel bad if you've..."  
  
"Ok," Dean cut him off, and then continued in bright voice. "Who's up for dinner?"  
  
Sam laughed despite himself, because there were some things about Dean that never changed.  
  
"I'll send for Phil," Harry answered, also smiling, then added, "I think I might be on to something here."  
  
"Really?" Sam got up to peer at the mess of writing in front of Harry. It was a mix of Latin, runes, and odd looking equations that he had never seen before. Harry just nodded and flipped open his mirror to call for Phil.  
  
There was a small popping noise and Phil was in the room.   
  
"Yessir?"   
  
"I am never going to get used to that..." Dean muttered.  
  
"Hi Phil, in a better mood than earlier, I see?" Harry said with a laugh. "I'm disappointed."  
  
Sam cocked an eyebrow, and watched as Phil rolled his eyes and grinned.  
  
"Harry...do you want to tell me why I'm here?" Phil asked.  
  
"I need you to look over this for me and tell me if I'm barking," Harry replied, pushing the mess of writing towards Phil. "Meanwhile, we're all going out for supper."  
  
Harry stood. Unlike the other wizard, he hadn't bothered putting on his robe that day, and just wore jeans and a t-shirt. He threw on a light jacket, and made his way to the door. Sam shut the laptop and threw on his own jacket, while Dean double checked that his gun was loaded before grabbing his leather coat.  
  
Just before they left the room, Dean turned back around and glared at Phil.  
  
"Don't touch my stuff!"   
  
Phil held up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't worry, I value my life."  
  
"Good," Dean replied. Sam shook his head.   
  
*   
  
Once they were out the door and headed to the diner, Dean asked Harry what exactly Phil was looking over.   
  
"I may have found a protection for you," Harry answered, "but don't get your hopes up. Phil's much better at wards and protection spells than I am, so we'll see what he says."  
  
The nearby diner wasn't crowded. Dean and Sam automatically sat themselves on one bench to face Harry on the other. Dean could see Harry try not to laugh at them hitting elbows. Dean had to hand it to the guy, he didn't seem easily intimidated. Dean and Sam practically BOTH had a foot of height on Harry, not to mention  _way_  more muscle mass, yet Harry remained confident and cool around them. It wasn't that Harry was scawny, though; Dean could tell that he had muscle on him, he was just wiry and short. Dean wondered if Harry thought his magic would protect him - maybe it did.   
  
Harry did a cursory look around, then made a hand movement under the table and muttered something. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up, and he saw Sam twitch beside him.  
  
"What'd you just do?" Dean whispered.   
  
"Muffling charm...so we can talk without people overhearing," Harry answered, and Dean could tell that he hadn't expected them to have noticed. Dean smiled a self-satisfied smirk; people often underestimated him. Hell, even Sam was underestimating him these days.  
  
"I was going to ask," Harry continued, "if you guys found any information on the Demon-Dementor link."  
  
"Your books don't have much information on them ever working together," Dean said. "Hell, they don't have very much information about demons at all..."  
  
Harry held up a hand to halt Dean's answer, and looked up as the waitress came to take their order.  
  
"Y'all ready to order?" she asked sweetly, and Dean smiled at her as she openly raked her eyes over him. She wasn't that bad looking. Pretty dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, a spattering of freckles over her cheeks.  
  
"I'd like a hamburger, please," Harry said, "with ch...fries."  
  
Dean sighed as the waitress' eyes flew over to Harry.  
  
"Oh! You have an accent! Where' you from?"  
  
Dean groaned as Harry blushed,  _blushed_... it was quite obvious that Harry was as bad as Sam when it came to the ladies.  
  
"Um, England, ma'am," Harry answered. Dean laughed at the look that crossed the waitress's face.  _Don't ever call a pretty girl "ma'am,"_  Dean thought and shook his head.  
  
"I'll have the same," Dean spoke up, with his most charming smile. He turned his head to throw a wink at Sam, and found that Sam was in the process of completing a spectacular looking eye-roll.  
  
"Just make it three," Sam deadpanned.   
  
"Sure thing, sugar," the waitress replied and hurried off. Dean watched her go.  
  
"You were saying..." Harry said, causing Dean to refocus his attention.  
  
"Oh, yeah...your books. They seem to say that demons are mainly a 'Muggle' problem," Dean answered, "but they don't say why, just that demonic possession is rare among wizards. I didn't find anything on a connection between demons and Dementors, besides the fact that they're both pretty evil sons of bitches - both considered dark creatures. Except for some reason wizards consider demons as falling under the responsibility of Hunters, while Dementor problems are handled by wizards."  
  
"We were taught that demons have a harder time possessing wizards," Harry said. "It's to do with the magic in the blood. It can become unstable, unpredictable... I suppose we're harder to control, so they don't usually bother." Harry paused, frowning. "I didn't realize it affected the knowledge base - that wizards wouldn't research something they didn't see as a threat." He shook his head, "Typical. They never learn."  
  
Dean furrowed his brow, wondering why it was that Harry kept jumping back and forth from speaking like he were a wizard and then speaking as though he weren't.   
  
"I couldn't find much on the internet," Sam said. "Mind you, I've never had to look into UK Hunters before, so a lot of my time was just spent trying to figure out if the information was legit. It's different from the wizard texts, because umm...'Muggles' can't see Dementors. So I tried to look for the symptoms, you know? The weather, the chill, the sadness..."  
  
Harry and Dean both nodded. Sam paused for a few minutes as the waitress brought over their food.   
  
"I eventually did find some documented cases. Mostly in the late '90s," Sam continued. "A town in Scotland in the early 90s, and then all over really around '97." Harry made a motion as if to speak, but Sam cut him off before he could. "It was that war...I know. I mean, I figured that out. So, it doesn't help us, because they were in league with that Voldemort guy, right?"  
  
"Tom Riddell, yeah...otherwise known as Voldemort," Harry confirmed.  
  
"I could tell by the other stuff going on," Sam continued. "The disappearances, the murders..."  
  
Harry grimaced, and Dean was thankful that Sam hadn't lost his ability to pick up on other people's moods when he cut himself off.  
  
"Anyway," Sam said, "I tried to look for earlier stuff. I found some activity in late 70s, but that was also Voldemort, wasn't it? When your parents..."  
  
"Yes," Harry answered. "That was the First War."  
  
"Ok," Sam said. "Well, I can keep looking."  
  
"We need a British version of Bobby," Dean suddenly found himself saying.  
  
"Bobby?" Harry asked.  
  
"A friend of ours," Sam answered. "He's a Demonology expert. You know anybody like that back home?"  
  
"Used to," Harry mused, visibly thinking. Dean didn't have to ask what Harry meant by 'used to'.  
  
"I'll just keep looking," Sam reiterated, and the three of them lapsed into silence while they ate.  
  
There were a few more instances of small talk - how good the burgers were, whether Harry was enjoying his trip to the US, the fact that Harry's boy Teddy had just started Wizard school back home.  _Wizard school,_  Dean thought with a laugh, _the world is so weird_.  
  
Eventually, they settled the bill and made their way back to the motel room. They found Phil in the same position they had left him, only this time there was a second sheet of weird equations in even messier writing beside the one Harry had left.   
  
"So, Phil, am I completely mad?" Harry asked Phil upon entering. Phil looked up in what Dean could only gather was awed disbelief.  
  
"You're crazy, alright, Harry...but you're a crazy genius," Phil answered. Dean watched as relief and excitement flooded through Harry simultaneously, and he smiled like a kid.  
  
"You do realize what this means, though, don't you?" Phil said seriously. Dean and Sam shared a look, both impatient to learn exactly what it was that Harry had figured out.  
  
"It means..." Harry replied, a mischievous grin slowly forming, "we have to smuggle the Winchesters into the Ministry."  
  
"Not only that," Phil answered in a serious tone, "we have to smuggle them right into the heart of the Department of Mysteries."


	9. Chapter 9

"Want to fill Sam and me in on what the hell is going on?" Dean asked, voice low and threatening. He heard Sam shift on his feet beside him, and watched as Phil paled a little. Harry, on the other hand, seemed strangely thrilled, and Dean wasn't sure whether that put him at ease or made him more nervous. Whatever was going on, it scared the hell out of Phil but made Harry look like a kid who had just been given a trip to Disneyland.  
  
"I've found a way to protect you two!" Harry said enthusiastically, grabbing the papers from in front of Phil and handing them over to Dean. Dean squinted at the mess of foreign writing, and passed it to Sam when he realized that there would be no hope of him being able to understand it.  
  
"In English, Harry," Dean said. "We don't speak whatever the hell that is."  
  
"I think some of it's Latin..." Sam mumbled beside him, and Dean rolled his eyes.   
  
"It's a protection spell that will work against Dementors," Harry continued. "Because, well, it's kind of a combination of spells, really...but I'm sure it'll work. I don't see why it wouldn't work. It all makes sense on paper at least."  
  
"Wait wait..." Dean tried to wrap his head around what Harry was implying. "Are you saying...is this something you've just  _invented_?"  
  
"It'll work," Phil interjected, before Harry could defend himself. "Believe me. I really wish it wouldn't, but it will." Phil ran a hand through greying hair, and sighed deeply. Dean raised a eyebrow, wondering why Phil didn't want them to be protected.  
  
"What Phil means," Harry started to explain, as if reading Dean's mind, "is that this isn't going to be as easy as it looks."  
  
"This is easy?" Sam said from beside him, gesturing to the scribbled equations. "This doesn't even make sense."  
  
"Well, maybe not to you," Harry sighed, snatching the paper back from Sam, as though he were insulted by Sam's inability to understand what was written. "But it makes perfect sense to me, and...well, it's actually quite impressive. I can't believe no one has thought of this before...I feel like calling Hermione."  
  
"Ok, whatever," Dean said. "We all know you're brilliant and 'the Chosen One' or whatever. Now, would you mind telling us about the  _smuggling us into places_  part of the plan. Because I think that's what's got Phil's panties in a twist, and I'm not sure I like the sound of it either."  
  
Dean watched in annoyance as Harry's jaw dropped open a bit and he stared at Dean as if he had just sprouted a second head.   
  
"Dude," Dean finally said. "You left Sam in a room with a shitload of books about Wizards; what did you think was going to happen?" Dean felt Sam shift beside him and rolled his eyes at the fact that Sam would even think of being embarrassed about having read up on the guy. "Blah blah...'the Chosen one' ..blah blah blah...defeated Lord Voldymoron."  
  
Harry snorted a laugh, but kept his expression pretty indiscernible.  
  
"Now," Dean finished, "would you mind filling us in on what is happening  _right now_ , Mr. Chosen One?"  
  
"Dean..." Sam said from besides him in a tone that translated his name to 'be aware of your surroundings'. Sure enough, Phil had the oddest expression on his face. It looked as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, if he should be angry, or if he was afraid that Harry was about to kill them. Dean had just started to wonder if he had crossed a line somewhere, when Harry started laughing.  
  
"Just..." Harry said, smiling, "just promise not to call me that again. It's not true any more. I'm no more 'the Chosen one' than you or Sam are."  
  
Dean swallowed, and plastered on a look of indifference.   
  
"Just tell us what's going on...you're killing me here."  
  
"Ok," Harry said, slipping back into a professional tone. "I've worked out this protective spell - it's part transfiguration, part charm-work, part defense against the dark arts. Anyway, the point is that it will work. It will essentially give you and Sam each your own Patronus."  
  
"But you said only wizards..." Sam started in a suspicious tone.  
  
" _That's_  where it gets tricky," Harry answered, picking up a large black book from the table and flipping it open. "At the Ministry - in the Department of Mysteries, to be exact - there's a room. It's specifically built to harness latent magic. The design is celtic in origin, utilizing the celestial bodies and the amplification qualities of certain stones...anyway, basically what it does is strengthen magic to an amazing degree. It can even, under the right circumstances, grant momentary power to those who cannot normally harness it."  
  
"Wait," Dean said, comprehension making his skin crawl, "are you saying you can make us magic?"  
  
"No, not quite," Harry said, "but if I'm in there with you, I can use it to harness what I need from you in order to create a Patronus specific to YOU...and once I do that, I can use it to transfigure those Patronuses into a protective charm that will basically make that protection permanent - or as close to permanent as I can manage."  
  
Harry handed Dean and Sam the open book, holding it between them, in order to allow either one of them to take it as they wished. Years of habit caused Dean to only reach out with one hand and hold onto one side of the book, knowing that Sam would grab the other. They pulled it between them and looked down at the diagram on the page. A room drawn in black ink, lined with engravings and crystal structures, lay mapped out in 3D. The diagram rotated slowly, moving just like Harry's family photo had earlier. It showed a moon and a sun alternately rising above it, beams of light shining through a slit in the ceiling, filling the room with light and then fading.  
  
Dean only understood some of the runes around it. The Celtic writing made him think of Pastor Jim - the way he had etched runes in the wall next to his weapon stash. There was a time when Dean was six, when he and Sam had stayed with Pastor Jim for a while, and he remembered having the runes explained to him - how some were hidden in the illuminated scripture of the old books, and Dean had often wondered if they told some secret gospel alongside the accepted one.  
  
Dean passed the book fully to Sam, and turned his attention back to Harry. He already knew that so much could go wrong in that room. He already knew that he didn't like the idea of trusting Harry that much, even if he had yet to do anything but try to help them. He also knew that they didn't really have a choice.  
  
"So, I take it that for some reason we can't just waltz in there and tell them we need to borrow their magic room?" Dean said to Harry.  
  
"No," Harry sighed.  
  
"Harry..." Phil said, drawing everyone's attention back to where he sat, looking grim. "Sir, we  _could_  if we, you know, just  _brought them in_..."  
  
"No," Harry cut him off. "Please, Phil...I have a feeling about this - like I said earlier, that would bring a world of trouble down on us."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect, this isn't your country..." Phil started.  
  
"Phil!" Harry said in threatening tone. "If you are about to suggest that I'm acting in anyway  _cavalier_ to the security and safety of the American Wizarding population, then maybe we should have this discussion outside."  
  
Dean kept his hands seemingly casual by his sides, but held himself at the ready for action as the tension built in the room. He didn't need to look at Sam to know that Sam had shifted the weight of the book onto his left hand, and dropped his right towards the waistband of his jeans.   
  
"Harry.." Phil answered quietly. "If I go down for this...I'll lose my job; hell, they'll probably send me to prison. You'll have to do better than a  _feeling._ "  
  
"What happened the last time the Dementors moved like this, Phil?" Harry replied, his voice calm.   
  
"Voldemort returned, seized control of the Ministry, hundreds of people died..." Phil said with a sigh.  
  
"Well, I had a feeling then too, and no one listened to me."  
  
"Fuck," Phil said, causing Dean's eyebrows to shoot up. "Fucking hell. Damn it. Shit." Surprisingly, when Dean looked at Harry, he was smiling.   
  
"Good to have you on board, Phil," Harry said, and focused his attention back on the two Winchesters. "So, as Phil indicated, the hard part will be getting you into the Ministry without anyone realizing who you are...otherwise Phil and I lose our jobs for not contacting the Ministry as soon as we came into contact with you."  
  
"Do you even know why they want us?" Sam asked.  
  
"No," Harry answered, "I wish I did. If it were something innocuous, then it would make things a whole lot easier, because then we  _could_  just stroll in to the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately, I have a pretty good hunch that it's more serious than that. Like I said - the last time the Dementors moved like this - well, that was the mess I was tangled up in, and the Ministry only ever managed to make it worse. This time the Dementors seem interested in you two, so whatever you're involved with - whatever is going on with this demon - I can't decide what the best course of action is until I learn more, so right now it's better to be safe than sorry. Involving as few people as possible is safer than involving the Ministry."  
  
"So, how are we going to pull this off?" Dean asked. "I take it that Sam and I can't just walk up with fake FBI badges like usual."  
  
"No," Harry replied. "Phil and I will come up with a plan, since we're the ones that know the ins and outs of the Ministry. You two keep working on the Dementor-Demon research."  
  
"It better be a freakin' good plan, Harry," Dean warned.  
  
"Trust me, I don't want Phil to lose his job any more than he does," Harry replied.   
  
The two teams broke off to hash out their own plans. Dean made a few more requests for books, which had Phil disappearing and reappearing a few times during the night but, for the most part, they were stuck in the hotel room. Dean and Sam sat on Sam's bed and passed books and the laptop back and forth, reading up on every Dementor incident in the past hundred years or so, while Harry and Phil sat hunched over the table, speaking in muffled voices. Dean was pretty sure that they were unnaturally muffled voices. He would rather be able to hear what they were saying, given that it was his and Sam's lives that they were playing with. He sent a few angry glares Harry's way, but Harry only looked up at him once, and his reaction was to cringe and then shrug a small apology. That was when Dean realized that it was Phil who had chosen to exclude them from the conversation.   
  
Finally, as it approached midnight. Harry and Phil's voices became unmuffled, and Phil raised a hand in goodnight to Dean and Sam before he turned and disappeared.   
  
"I think we've got something worked out now," Harry announced. "Phil's checking up on a few things and will report back sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, I think we should get as much sleep as possible tonight; tomorrow is going to be a long day."  
  
Sam nodded beside him and started removing the books that were spread out all over his extra-long bed. Suddenly, Dean realized that he was missing the answer to a very important question.  
  
"Harry," Dean started slowly, "where _is_ the Ministry?"  
  
Harry smiled. "Boston. But don't worry, you can leave your car here."  
  
Sam looked at Dean with wide concerned eyes and Harry's smile faltered.  
  
"Did I say something wrong?" Harry asked.  
  
  
*   
  
  
It took almost another hour to calm Dean down and reassure him that quicker travel was for the best. Once Harry realized that Dean was mainly just afraid of flying, he was able to reassure him much more quickly. They were eventually all able to get to sleep. Phil had instructions to let them sleep in, which they did; or at least, Sam and Harry did. When Harry woke up in the morning, Sam was still asleep, but Dean was sitting up in bed, reading the wizard books.  
  
"Morning," Harry muttered, rummaging in the pile of robes beside his bed in search of his glasses.  
  
"Morning," the blurry form of Dean whispered back. Harry slipped his glasses on and made his way to the bathroom to change and freshen up. He took a look at Dean on his way by, and guessed that Dean had at least gotten a few hours' sleep.   
  
When he came out of the bathroom, Sam was just beginning to wake up.   
  
"Do you want me to send one of the boys for breakfast?" Harry asked. Sam grunted something and then burrowed back under the covers. Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean, who was rolling his eyes.  
  
"Nah, man, I'll go get it," Dean said. "I was going to go earlier, but your magic pillow bed was blocking the door."   
  
"Oh, sorry," Harry replied, picking up his wand and transfiguring the bed back into a pillow.  
  
"Hey, why don't you come with me?" Dean said. "We'll leave Sammy to get his beauty sleep."  
  
A grunt from Sam's bed indicated that Sam wasn't really sleeping, but Dean just laughed, and looked at Harry for his answer.  
  
"Ah, sure..." Harry said, knowing that really wasn't the reason Dean wanted him to come. Harry tried to figure out the real reason, wondering if maybe Dean was worried about running into Dementors without Harry around, but that really didn't fit in well with what Harry knew of Dean's personality.  
  
"Great, let's go," Dean replied, as he opened the bedside table drawer and slipped a silver gun into his pocket. Harry only worried for a second that Dean was planning on taking him out back and shooting him, before he remembered the car ride the day before and how Dean had had plenty of opportunity to kill him then if that were his goal.  
  
Once they were outside on their way to the diner, Dean launched into his real motivation without even trying to hide it.  
  
"What does it mean that Sam can see those things?" Dean asked, his tone even and casual.  
  
"I don't know," Harry responded honestly. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."  
  
Dean grunted out a noncommittal response. So Harry continued.  
  
"Judging from your reaction to the fact that he could see something, I'm guessing this isn't the first time something like this has happened with Sam. So, really, you know more about this than I do."  
  
"Do you think it's why your Ministry wants to see us?" Dean asked, as though Harry hadn't spoken.  
  
"Again, I don't know," Harry replied. "Possibly, I suppose." Harry took a breath and decided he might as well lay out the cards he had and see if they exploded in his face or not. "Did something happen with Sam after you died?"  
  
There was a long moment while Harry waited for Dean's answer. Finally, Dean spoke up beside him, but it wasn't the answer that Harry was hoping for.  
  
"Why do you ask?"   
  
Now it was Harry's turn to pause.   
  
"The report on you guys, it seems to have been started in the summer. It's like they didn't care about you more than any of the other Hunters until then. They just don't say why."  
  
"Sam was going after demons in the summer," Dean answered. "I think he would have mentioned if he had killed any wizards."   
  
"No, it's not..." Harry wasn't sure how to say it, telling Dean that the Department of Mysteries was interested would just cause pointless worry - not to mention he would have to explain what the Department of Mysteries did, which he wasn't even sure he could do. "It's not the standard report for a Hunter that's killed a wizard. For one, it's a report on both of you, not just Sam - only you were...dead. I just don't understand what Sam could have done that would bring attention to _both_ of you when you weren't even alive at the time."   
  
"Anyway... " Harry continued, as they paused to let a car pass by before crossing over to the diner. "If they want you two because of Sam, it's because of something he did in the summer. The researchers dated all their reports at the end of August."  
  
Harry was halfway across the road before he realized that Dean was no longer in step beside him. He turned to see Dean staring at him with a look on his face that had Harry scanning the streets for Dementors. When he didn't see any, he looked back at Dean, but Dean had already schooled his expression.  
  
"It's not Sam," Dean said gruffly, as he walked towards and then past Harry.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.  
  
"They didn't start the report because of Sam," Dean repeated briskly, and then opened the door to the diner. "I think I'm going to have pancakes."  
  
And that, Harry knew, signaled the end of the conversation. But Dean had already said enough, because if the report wasn't started because of something Sam did, then that only left one other person responsible and that person was currently leering at the waitress while he ordered pancakes. What Harry didn't understand was what Dean could have possibly done in Hell that would matter to anyone on Earth.


	10. Chapter 10

Once they were back at the hotel room, and Harry had cast warming charms on all their coffee and pancakes, he began to outline the plan.   
  
"It's relatively simple," Harry said. "The Ministry actually doesn't have that much security. Once you are past the security desk, you aren't supervised or watched in any way. If we go at night, there will only be one security guard at the desk and no one in the hallways who would have the required security clearance to be suspicious."  
  
"So, could you just get us fake Wizard-badges to get past the desk?" Dean asked.  
  
"No. If I brought you down there, you would have to be registered as visitors. What's more, you'd have to present your wands for inspection at security. You don't have wands, so it would be obvious you were Muggles."  
  
"Your team seems to have bought the cover story that you gave them about knowing us from the war. Couldn't you just feed that story to anyone who asked?" Sam wondered.  
  
"Yes and no. I could, it's true. But it would still bring far too much attention to you. When I came up with that story, I didn't know..." Harry paused, not wanting to say,  _'I didn't know what Department was after you'_ , so he continued as vaguely as possible. "Well, the point is, I think we need to attract as little attention as possible."  
  
Harry could tell by the way Dean was looking at him that he had noticed the vagueness of his reply. He held his breath for a moment, but Dean just looked at him and said, "So, tell us the plan then."  
  
"We'll go in with just four of us  - you two, Phil, and me. We'll leave the rest of the team here with instructions to monitor the Dementors. They won't know where we are going, only that we are not to be disturbed and will report back in the morning. The four of us will apparate to Boston. It's a long jump, but Phil and I have done it before and should be able to handle taking one person each. Once in Boston, we'll head to the Ministry...and this is where it'll get a bit complicated and you'll have to trust me."  
  
Harry paused, and made sure to focus his attention on the Winchesters to gauge their reactions to what he was about to say.  
  
"We'll 'disguise' you," Harry said. "Dean will be me, and Sam will be Deacon."  
  
"Uh..." Sam said, just as Dean said, "What?!"  
  
"Harry, I mean, besides the green eyes, Dean looks nothing like you...and I'm twice the size of Deacon," Sam stated slowly, as if Harry had perhaps lost his mind. It would have made Harry laugh, if he wasn't so preoccupied with how he was going to explain this.  
  
"Maybe 'disguise' is the wrong word," Harry said. "I really mean that you will  _be_  me, or, well, have my body..."  
  
"I'm going to possess you?" Dean asked in confusion. "Dude, that's impossible. I'm not a demon."  
  
"No, no," Harry said. "There's this potion. It can  _change_  you into someone else. I'll still have my body too, so essentially, there will be two of me walking around, only one of them will be you. Does that make sense?"  
  
Both Winchesters wore identical expressions of concerned confusion.  
  
"I guess," Sam said, "but won't having two of you be even more suspicious than just keeping us the way we are?"  
  
"I'm going to be invisible," Harry answered with a wave of his hand.   
  
"Why don't we all just go invisible?" Sam asked.  
  
"Disillusionment charms are easily noticed by trained security, but I have an invisibility cloak," Harry answered. "It's not perfect either, but it's better than any spell I could do, and you guys will be enough of a distraction that they won't even be suspicious."  
  
"Alright," Dean said. "When do we move out, and where's Phil?"  
  
"We'll go tonight," Harry replied. "That way, there will be no one around once we are through security. Phil is currently in New Orleans. He's got a contact with Louisiana's magic government and can get us the potion we need. It's better for him to get it there than in Boston; even if there's record of him requesting the potion, by the time it goes through the proper channels between the two governments, we'll be long gone. Sometimes red tape works to our advantage."  
  
"You've lost us again," Sam said.   
  
"Sorry...umm, how can I explain this," Harry wondered. "The United States, well...it's not exactly United, at least, not for Wizards. North America has 5 different magical countries and a handful of independent magical territories. Louisiana is a territory, New Orleans is where they have their administration and school. The countries all belong to the North American Magic Union, so they cooperate on intelligence, education and so on. Anyway, I'm here because the British...well, the American Ministry - which is, at least officially, considered a dominion of the British Ministry, asked me to come help with the Dementors, but I'm allowed to travel freely and operate around the entire continent because I fall under "security" which is a shared resource under the Union."  
  
"My head hurts," Dean stated.  
  
"It's not important. The point is, Phil is in New Orleans getting us the potion we need," Harry smiled.  
  
"So, what do we do in the meantime?" asked Sam. Harry glanced around at all the books.  
  
"More research?" Harry answered, and nearly laughed at the identical groans the Winchesters made. "If it makes you feel any better, I've got a much more unpleasant task."  
  
Dean and Sam both stilled, and then Dean spoke.   
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I've got to call in a favour," Harry sighed with dread.   
  
Harry excused himself from the room. He had argued with Phil about it all last night, but to no avail. In order to get at the files in the Department of Mysteries to find out why they were interested in the Winchesters, Harry needed an inside man. He needed the help of an Unspeakable. Harry also needed someone that could be underhanded enough to break into the files and would never tell a single soul that he had helped Harry Potter.  
  
Harry didn't just need an Unspeakable, he needed Draco Malfoy.  
  
*      
  
Once Harry had left the room. Dean and Sam shared a glance.  
  
"Well, that was vague and slightly ominous sounding," Dean muttered. Sam huffed in response and shook his head.  
  
"Wizards, man. Just when I thought we had seen everything," Dean continued. "I don't think I can take another day cooped up in here reading these weird useless books."  
  
"Well, it sounds like we're going to Boston tonight," Sam said. "Why don't you use the laptop to figure out if there's anything in Boston we should be aware of."  
  
"Like what?" Dean said. "You looking to do a job on the side when we already got all this Crazy going on? I thought you were the one that wanted me to slow down."  
  
"I don't know, man," Sam replied. "Maybe I just want to do something that I understand."  
  
"I hear ya," Dean answered. "Alright, I'll look into Boston. How about you look through these books and see if anything mentions the magic political situation - now that we know these people exist, I want to know whose territory I'm driving into from state to state."  
  
The Winchesters split up to their separate tasks. Dean didn't find anything particularly supernatural about Boston, but that didn't necessarily mean that there wasn't anything there, so he kept looking.  He tried checking for demonic activity, but the problem was that weather patterns were screwed up all over the eastern sea-board due to the Dementors.  
  
"Hey, Dean." Sam broke the silence a half hour later. "Check this out... _After the war, there was much speculation about how Lord Voldemort had survived his first defeat at the hands of the infant Harry Potter. Indeed, it is still unknown to this day, how it was that Potter was able to survive the killing curse nor how it was that Voldemort was defeated. Potter's official statement is that it was not him who defeated Voldemort on that Halloween night, but rather his mother, even though by all accounts, including his own, his mother had already been killed_ ...uhh, hold up, where's the part that...oh here:  _In statements taken from Harry Potter in the months after the war, it was revealed that Voldemort used dark magic known as a "Horcrux" in order to stave off death. Horcruxes store a part of someone's soul, allowing them to live without a body. Although the exact number of Horcruxes used by Voldemort is unknown to anyone but Potter, Granger, and R. Weasley, the wording of their statements suggests that there had been several. Potter claimed that Neville Longbottom destroyed the final Horcrux when he slew the snake Nagini._ _"_  
  
"Uh, fascinating, Sam, but why are you telling me this?" Dean asked, eyebrows knit together."We already know that Harry killed that evil bastard and that's why he's all famous and shit."  
  
"But the part about the Horcruxes, Dean!" Sam said. "This Voldemort guy was the last one to use Dementors, so maybe Harry didn't get all of him...maybe there are still parts of his soul out there."  
  
"So...are you admitting that this might have absolutely nothing to do with Lilith?" Dean replied, raising his eyebrows. Sam grimaced.  
  
"Never mind," Sam muttered. "Just thought maybe we could ask Harry if he's sure the dude is dead, that's all."  
  
"Sam, as much as I agree that it's a reasonable explanation," Dean began, "that Voldemort guy killed Harry's family...killed his mom. I think he would have made sure the son of a bitch was completely dead."  
  
Sam looked down at the book in his hands and sighed, "Yeah...yeah, you're right."  
  
Dean just turned back to the laptop, but he wasn't really paying attention to the screen anymore. He couldn't help thinking about Harry losing his parents when he was just half a year older than Sammy had been when...and Harry had said that the family he lived with after had abused him. Dean started to wonder if maybe Harry's wiry physique and short stature weren't actually hereditary. They had lived in a lot of crappy neighbourhoods growing up, and Dean had seen kids who didn't have people looking after them properly. He glanced over at Sam - the friggin giant - and remembered all the times that their Dad went away and Sam ate all the food within two days and Dean had to figure out how to earn enough money to buy more. Maybe he had failed Sam in other ways, but he had done right sometimes - there was no denying that.  
  
"Dude," Dean spoke up, suddenly in the mood for joking. "What the hell kind of name is  _Neville Longbottom_  anyway? The British sure know how to pick sissy sounding names."  
  
Sam snorted a laugh, shook his head, and,  at the exact same moment Harry popped back into the room, said, "I don't know, the  _Snake-Slaying_  part makes him sound pretty badass."  
  
"Are you talking about Neville?" Harry asked, bemused, as he took a seat at the table across from Dean.  
  
Sam flushed as if caught out on something, and Dean bit back a smile.  
  
"Neville Longbottom is just not a name I would associate with some badass guy who slays snakes, that's all I'm saying..." Dean replied.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled.   
  
"Yeah, I wouldn't necessarily describe Neville as "badass", I mean, he's a Professor of... _Botany._ " Harry then continued in a more serious tone, "But that doesn't mean you should undestimate him. He and I...have a lot in common. If things had gone a little differently, he'd have been the bloody  _Chosen One_."  
  
"How do you mean?" Dean asked.  
  
"Nothing...sometimes decisions are made for you, that's all I'm saying. Anyway, Neville's a war hero. And at least he wasn't named after a girl."  
  
Sam snorted another laugh, as Dean's mouth gaped open.   
  
"How'd you...? What is _in_ that file that you have on us?"  
  
"Just a crude family tree. It doesn't take a genius..." Harry laughed.  
  
"You have a file on us?" Sam interrupted.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Harry said. "Bloody useless though. Thought it would tell me why the Ministry was interested in you two, but it's just the basics - you know, we keep tabs on Hunters, can't be too careful."   
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at Harry; he already knew from their conversation that morning that it wasn't a 'standard report.' Harry had been vague about why it wasn't standard then, and now he wasn't even letting on to Sam that there was anything special about it at all. He glanced down at the scars on Harry's hand, and wondered not for the first time what had caused them. Were the words there as a statement of fact, or as punishment? They were in Harry's handwriting too, it seemed. It was easy to compare when Harry had his crazy spellwork notes spread all over the table the night before.  
  
"I'm not lying," Harry said, and Dean realized that he had been caught staring at the words. Harry clasped his hands together, brushing the scars with his fingertips. "The file really doesn't give me any information as to why the Ministry is interested in you. It's why I called in the favour...it's a guy who can get me more information."  
  
"That why you were gone for so long?" Dean asked, because it really was the longest Harry had been out of his sight since that night he had woken to Harry shoving chocolate down his throat.  
  
"Yes...yeah," Harry replied. "Uh, he's meeting us tonight."  
  
"You don't sound particularly happy about it," Sam observed from where he sat on the bed.  
  
"We went to school together," Harry said. "We um, weren't exactly friends."  
  
"Yet he's willing to help you?" Dean asked.  
  
"He feels indebted to me. Believe me, he doesn't like it, and I've  _tried_  to convince him that I don't care about any of it, but umm...when I say that he tends to get even more angry with me, so it's just easier to agree that he owes me one... or several," Harry explained, shrugging.  
  
"What did you do for him?"  
  
Harry shrugged. Dean was surprised when it seemed that Harry actually had to think of the answer.  
  
"I did what I would have done for anyone," Harry finally answered. "I guess he just figured that he didn't deserve it."  
  
"Alright, man," Dean said. "But you trust him, right? He's not going to turn on us, is he?" That was all that mattered to Dean at this point; screw getting into the eccentricities of Harry's interpersonal relationships.  
  
"No, he's not very likable, but he won't turn on us."  
  
"Good. That's all I care about," Dean said.  
  
"I have to go give the orders to the team," Harry said, standing. "It's too bad we need Malfoy; breaking into the Ministry would be much more fun with Ron or Hermione." And with that, Harry turned and disappeared.  
  
"I'm not sure I like this, Dean," Sam said, once Harry was gone.  
  
"I'm not sure it matters whether we like this or not, Sam," Dean replied.  
  
Harry returned hours later, this time with Phil in tow. Phil had with him two hip flasks and a ziplock bag with a lock of hair in it. Dean didn't ask, but the dread building in the pit of his stomach increased.  
  
They researched the rest of the day, only stopping to walk to the diner for supper. Everyone mostly ate in silence, their own thoughts churning in their heads. Dean wondered if maybe he should try asking Cas about it all, or maybe he should call Bobby. In the end he decided against it - not wanting to involve Bobby and not wanting to rely on friggin' angels for his intel.  
  
Around 11pm, Dean threw the usual assortment of weapons into a pack. Harry made a noise as if to tell Dean that they were unnecessary, but Dean cut him off with a sharp glare. He made sure Sam had his gun, and then slung the bag over his shoulder. Instead of heading towards the door, the two wizards came over and stood beside Dean and Sam.   
  
"Ok," Harry said, from his position next to Dean. "Umm...remember what I said about Wizard transportation being uncomfortable?"   
  
"Yes..." Dean replied.  
  
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you two did your best not to vomit," Harry stated, as he grabbed Dean's arm and gave a nod to Phil.   
  
Dean had enough time to throw a wide-eyed look to Sam, who caught his eye in an equally concerned look, and then suddenly the inside of the motel room was swirling away and he felt like he was being pulled through an extremely small opening - thinning out and stretching impossibly. Dean felt like screaming, but he wasn't even sure he had a mouth.  
  
Then, just as suddenly, he was standing in an alleyway under the clear night sky, surrounded by buildings. Harry was still beside him, the hand on his arm now steadying instead of pulling. He was grateful for the help as the world swayed around him. He swallowed against the rising bile. Leaning on the short wizard was one thing, but Dean absolutely refused to vomit.  
  
A second after Dean and Harry had appeared in the alley, Sam and Phil arrived. Sam looked like Dean felt, and if Dean had been able to move, he would have run over to steady Sam himself. Luckily, Phil already had a steadying hand on Sam's arm, though even Phil looked a little green.  
  
"Guh," Sam said. Dean turned a disbelieving glare at Harry.  
  
"Really?" Dean said. "You guys choose  _that_  over driving! You should all be killed."  
  
Harry laughed, but Phil remained serious. Dean wondered if maybe the other wizard didn't realize he was joking.   
  
"Well, it  _is_  faster," Harry explained. "Good job on not throwing up, guys! I know it's not easy."  
  
"Is it like that every time?" Sam asked in a shaking voice. Harry shrugged.  
  
"You get used to it."  
  
Harry and Phil both released their holds on the Winchesters now that they seemed to be steady on their feet. Dean moved over towards Sam, while Phil crossed over to Harry.  
  
"You ok?" Dean asked Sam out of habit.  
  
"I'm fine, you?" Sam replied, just as Dean heard Phil say,  _"He felt wrong, pulled oddly... I nearly splinched him,"_  in a hushed tone behind him. Dean didn't think Sam had heard, and he kept his face neutral even though his heart skipped a beat.  
  
"I'm good," Dean replied, while listening to Harry's dismissive, _"I'll take him on the way back."_  
  
There was a clap of hands that had Dean whirling around to face Harry and Phil again and, if he hadn't heard their whispers, he would have thought nothing was wrong. Phil looked serious, but he always did, and Harry looked down right happy.  
  
"Ok, let's get started!" Harry said. Dean hitched his pack higher on his shoulder and nodded. Phil reached into his robes and took out the two hip flasks and the ziplock bag. Harry reached a hand into his mop of black hair and yanked.  
  
"Do I even want to know?" Dean asked warily.  
  
"You really don't," Harry replied with a sheepish grin, but the two continued to work in plain sight, and Dean could only groan when his suspicions were confirmed as Phil took the hair out of the ziplock bag and added it to one of the hip flasks, while Harry put his own hair in the other.  
  
"Cheers, mate," Harry said, handing the hip flask to Dean. Phil handed the other to Sam. "Just one good gulp should give us enough time."  
  
Dean looked at Sam, perhaps hoping that he would suddenly come up with some brilliant plan that didn't involve drinking hair, but Sam just gave him a resigned little shrug.   
  
Sighing, Dean raised the flask to his lips just as Sam did the same beside him.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam's bones were shrinking, his face was stinging, and his muscles thinning. All this was happening while he watched Dean's face contort, his hair grow, and his body shrink. The only thing that seemed to remain constant were his green eyes and that was the only thing that kept Sam from fainting.   
  
During the commotion, Sam vaguely registered Phil and Harry darting forward to catch the hip flasks as they fell from Dean and Sam's shrinking hands. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Sam filled his new lungs with oxygen, and quickly brought a hand to the waistband of his pants to keep them from falling to his ankles; not that it would have mattered, given how he was swimming in his shirts.  
  
Sam's only comfort was that Dean looked ridiculous, or rather, Harry did...well, Dean really, but...god this was confusing. Dean was standing there in Harry's body, without glasses, wild hair sticking everywhere, drowning in jeans and flannel, with a completely gobsmacked expression on his face.   
  
Sam laughed.  
  
"Bitch," Dean muttered, then looked Sam over head to toe. "Wow, Sammy, you haven't been that skinny since you were 18!" Sam decided that hearing Dean say anything to him in a British accent was all kinds of weird, even  _if_  Dean was walking around in Harry's body.  
  
"At least I'm still taller, jerk," Sam replied.  
  
Harry - the real one - cleared his throat.   
  
"As much as I enjoy you mocking my height, we have limited time here, guys," Harry said, and he pulled some clothes out of his shoulder bag and threw them to Dean and Sam. "Change into these."  
  
Both Sam and Dean lost their grips on their jeans when they caught the clothes on reflex, and Sam realized that Harry had to have done that on purpose. Twinning the glare that he knew Dean was giving Harry, Sam kicked his jeans all the way off and pulled on the slacks that Harry had thrown him.  
  
He glanced over at Dean to see him rid himself of his t-shirt, and couldn't help the slight jaw drop at the sight of Dean's - Harry's - bare chest. Dean seemed to notice his stare, and glanced down himself before pulling on the new shirt. There in the centre of Harry's chest was an odd purplish scar, almost like a small star burst.   
  
"Did you get shot or something?" Dean asked, pulling Harry's attention away from stowing their discarded clothes in his shoulder bag. Harry grimaced slightly when he saw the scar.   
  
"Uh, yeah,  _something,_ " Harry replied. "Told you, I died once."  
  
"Dude," Dean said, and Sam was once again struck by how odd Dean sounded with Harry's British accent. "I thought you were joking."  
  
"How'd you come back?" Sam asked, since he too had thought Harry had been joking before.  
  
"It's complicated," Harry replied, tossing them two pairs of shoes. "I was willing to die - so I didn't; instead he just killed...he killed something else, something other than me, and I came back."  
  
"Like a deal?" Sam asked, confused, "Did someone make a deal for you?"  
  
"A deal?" Harry asked back, now as confused as Sam. "No, no one made a deal. You can do that? I mean, can people do that? Make deals to bring people back?"  
  
Sam couldn't help but glance at Dean, and was momentarily thrown off by seeing Dean's familiar scowl on Harry's face.  
  
"Yeah, they can," Dean answered, as he took off his ring and amulet.  
  
"How does that work?" Harry asked further, handing Dean a spare pair of glasses as he spoke. Sam cursed himself for opening his big mouth about it in the first place, because obviously Harry had missed the memo on  _When to Drop the Subject_ .   
  
"Are we doing this thing or not?" Dean asked angrily in reply. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Harry actually flinched at Dean's tone. Phil looked a little terrified and Sam didn't blame him.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said quietly - fucking  _subdued_  - and Sam would have gloated on Dean's behalf if it wasn't for the way Harry seemed to curl in on himself like an abused kid. Then, just as suddenly as Harry folded inward, he seemed to give himself a shake and straighten back up again. It was as if the exchange had never happened. Harry pulled a shimmering cloak out of his bag and gave Sam and Dean a smile.   
  
"Follow Phil, I'll be right behind you," Harry said, and he threw the cloak over his shoulders and was gone. Sam and Dean both stared at the empty space that held Harry.  
  
"Ok, Dean," Harry's disembodied voice said. "You're me, so close your mouth and try to look like you know what you are doing." Sam snorted a laugh as Dean snapped his jaw shut and leveled a glare in the vague direction of Harry's voice. "Sam, you're Deacon...so, umm...it'd actually be good to show a little  _less_  confidence." It was Dean's turn to laugh as Sam sighed, realizing he had to play the part of a nervous trainee.  
  
Phil nodded to the two of them and left the alley at a brisk pace. Sam let Dean walk ahead of him, watching as he set Harry's legs to an even brisker pace in order to keep up. Sam nervously trailed behind, watching their backs and glancing around every once in a while to see if he could spot where Harry was hiding.  
  
Sam was able to recognize their location after Phil led them around another corner. They were heading straight into Boston Common. As the darkness of the park enveloped them, Sam felt Harry's presence beside him.   
  
"Harry?" Sam whispered.  
  
"Yes?" he heard Harry respond. They were much closer to each other in height now, and it actually threw Sam off a bit to have Harry's voice come from shoulder height instead of nearly at his elbow.  
  
"Just checking," Sam said.  
  
"Did I say something wrong before?" Harry's voice whispered to him after a pause.  
  
"No," Sam answered, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Dean's head, letting the space between them grow a little more to be safe. "I did. Deals...Dean- ... Da-... I shouldn't have -"  
  
"I was only asking..." Harry interrupted Sam's floundering, much to Sam's relief, "...because Riddle, he liked to find ways around death, you know? If deals are possible...well, I mean, what do you deal  _with_? Is it money? Favours?"  
  
Sam understood now. Harry hadn't been trying to pry into their lives, he had been worried about having to fight another war - worried that the sick freak who had tried to kill him time and time again could still come back. Sam could sympathize; he still had nightmares of people burning on the ceiling, or Dean being thrown back into hell.  
  
"Souls," Sam whispered. "It's an exchange, not a purchase - your soul for theirs. The only bargaining is with the time you get left - standard is ten years, but sometimes you just get one... sometimes you just get a few minutes."  
  
"Oh, that's a relief," Harry said. Sam looked at the empty air in disbelief.   
  
"A relief?" he squeaked in Deacon's voice.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied and, even though Sam couldn't see him, he could tell that he was smiling. "Voldemort's followers aren't the self-sacrificing type."  
  
"Oh," Sam replied.   
  
They walked a few more paces in silence, and then Harry's voice whispered to him again.  
  
"Did you...make a deal for Dean?"  
  
Sam ran a hand pointlessly through Deacon's short hair, and bit his lip.  
  
"The angels brought Dean back," he replied, in a tone that said  _you know this_. Harry didn't press the issue, and Sam could have left it at that, but he suddenly didn't want to. The guilt, the failure, it all ate away at him, and he couldn't talk about it with Dean. And there was no one else except for Dean...and Ruby, but for some reason Sam always just felt worse after talking to her.  
  
"I tried," Sam said softly. "A straight exchange, anything. I begged the Crossroads Demon to let us switch places, put me in hell instead...It should have been me all along...but he wouldn't take me, didn't want me, said they had things just the way they wanted them. I killed that fucker so slowly...no one answered my summonings after that. I'd killed another one the year before, so-"  
  
"Through here, sir," Phil's voice said loudly from ahead, interrupting Sam. Phil had stopped and was pointing to a grove of trees just off the path. Dean had walked a little past Phil, so Sam could see the furrow in his - Harry's - brow as Sam quickened his pace to catch up to them.  
  
"Through where?" Dean asked, fidgeting oddly. "Why we stopping here? Let's keep going."  
  
Sam stared at Dean in confusion and glanced at the grove of trees. They looked fine; his eyes bounced off them and he looked back at Dean, whose fidgeting had only increased.   
  
"What's with you?" Sam asked.  
  
"I don't want..." Dean started, looking as though he was forcing himself to stay still. "Why don't I want to be here?"  
  
"Shit, the charms!" Phil said, as Sam gave the trees another look, trying to figure out what was freaking Dean out so much. They were trees. Phil was pulling two long chains with pendants out of his robes.  
  
"I'm sorry, I forgot," Phil said, handing them quickly to Sam and Dean. "Hide them under your clothes. They'll nullify the Muggle repelling charms on the trees."  
  
 _Oh_ , Sam thought, and dutifully slipped the pendant over his head. He watched as Dean did the same and then visibly relaxed. Dean had been repelled by charms.  
  
"That's better," Sam said, hoping to God no one had noticed.  
  
"Yeah, that was weird," Dean replied. "Anything else you've forgotten?"  
  
"No, sorry," Phil said, and turned to walk into the grove of trees, with Dean following close behind.  
  
"Nothing?" Harry's voice questioned from beside Sam. Sam didn't answer. He simply followed Dean into the trees. There were muggle repelling charms on the trees and Sam hadn't felt a goddamn thing.  
  
He was so angry that he didn't even blink when he saw Phil walk straight into a tree and disappear.  
  
*  
  
Once they were through the tree, and yeah - as if being in someone else's body wasn't weird enough - they found themselves at the top of a marble staircase that led down. Phil stood a few steps ahead, but motioned for Dean to take the lead, whispering, "just head to the door to the right of the security desk."   
  
It was then that Dean realized what playing the part of Harry meant. Harry was squad commander, or whatever the hell Phil had called him. Harry was the kind of person who had people as old as Phil calling him sir and fuckin'  _revering_  him. Dean tried to imagine Bobby saying "Yessir, right away, sir" to either Dean or Sam instead of calling them morons all the time, and had to stop himself from laughing at the image. If that ever happened, it'd creep him out so much that he'd probably try to exorcize the guy.  
  
The staircase led about two or three stories down to a large round foyer also made of white marble. Pillars lined the edge of the room, and lining the wall behind the pillars were a dozen or more grand fireplaces. In the middle of the room was a large inlaid crest in red, green, black, and white stone. A chandelier hung overhead, and sconces rested high on the pillars and the walls behind them but, instead of holding light bulbs, they held burning candles that flickered randomly between yellow, red, and blue flames.  
  
Dean knew that he couldn't take the time to study what the crest was, since he was supposed to be Harry and Harry had been here before, and wouldn't show surprise or interest in what he saw. Dean kept his face still, and glanced back at Sam to make sure he was remembering his part. Deacon, being from America, would be even less surprised by the room than Harry.   
  
Sam was scowling at the floor as he came off the steps, but looked up, seeming to sense Dean's eyes on him. Dean gave him a quick glare to  _get your head in the game_  and then the scowl lifted from Deacon's face and was replaced with something that looked more like...well, Deacon. Dean turned back around and strode purposefully towards the door just to the right of the secruity desk.  
  
The security desk lay directly across from the entrance to the foyer. On either side of it stood a door and, beyond them, equal curved staircases hugged the round wall leading up towards large double doors on a second floor.   
  
At the security desk, Dean could see someone's feet, neatly crossed at the ankles and resting on the desk. As their group drew closer, he saw the guy's body reclined in a cushy office chair. Dean knew the moment that the guy clued into who it was that was striding towards him, because the feet untangled themselves and came down to the floor with an abrupt thump, and the guy sat bolt upright.  
  
"Mr. Potter, sir!" He said, "Uh...good evening?"  
  
Dean smiled.   
  
"Evening," he said with a nod, and continued towards the door.  
  
"Hello, Roger," Phil said from slightly behind him.  
  
"Oh, hi Mr. O'Shaughnessy, Deacon."   
  
Dean glanced over his shoulder and realized that Roger wasn't even really looking at Phil or Sam - his eyes were still trained on Dean.   
  
"Keep up the good work, Roger," Dean winked as he opened the door and strode into a dark hallway. Seriously, with the way Roger's eyes widened, Dean figured they could have just walked in as themselves behind the real Harry and he wouldn't have seen them.  
  
"Head to the elevator," Phil muttered behind him, once both he, Sam, and the invisible Harry were through the door and it had swung shut behind them. Dean spotted the elevators halfway down the corridor. The way was lit by blue torches, casting an eerie dull glow on everything.  
  
At first Dean wasn't quite sure why it was that Harry was still under his invisible blanket. They had gotten passed the security desk with no trouble and the corridor they were in was abandoned. Dean glanced around for security cameras out of habit. There were none, of course. But a small movement caught the corner of his eye. The hall was lined with paintings and, if Dean wasn't losing his mind (and at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if he was), someone in one of the paintings just moved.   
  
A man sleeping awkwardly in an ornate chair cracked one eye open as Dean walked by the painting. Dean tried not to look surprised and instead gave the painting a short nod to test his theory. The man in the painting nodded back, and then closed his eye again. The moving people in Harry's photograph hadn't reacted at all to being pointed at or talked about, but the painting had nodded back to Dean. It was the most bizarre surveillance device Dean had ever seen. He wondered if the paintings lining the hallway were possessed, like that fugly painting he and Sam had tried to destroy nearly three years ago. Dean rolled his eyes, even if they were possessed; Harry would probably just tell him 'it's different for wizards' and not let him salt and burn them. Dean was beginning to wonder what  _wasn't_  different for wizards.  
  
The elevator doors slid open as if the elevator knew they were there - _they probably do_ , Dean thought - and everyone piled in. Dean saw Sam move oddly to the side to get through the door, and that was his only clue to the fact that Harry had stepped into the elevator as well.  
  
The elevator didn't have buttons, just an odd lever at the side. Phil immediately stepped up to it and pushed it slowly and the elevator started a smooth descent. The old fashioned dial over the door began moving from the left slowly to the right. Dean realized that they were in a seven story building that was all underground.  
  
"Are there more paintings?" Sam asked. "Why are you still invisible?"  
  
"There aren't any more paintings, I just want to try something," Harry answered, from between Sam and Phil. "We're getting off on four. Turn right off the elevator. Draco Malfoy should be waiting for us at the end of the hall. I want to see if he can see through Dean's disguise. Call him Malfoy, don't use his first name."  
  
Before Dean could respond, the dial rested on the fourth floor and the doors chimed open, announcing "The Department of Mysteries" in a sing-song female voice. Everyone shuffled to allow Dean to exit first. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of trying to trick this Malfoy guy, but he strode out of the elevator like he was Harry Potter and turned right.  
  
Sure enough, there was a tall - or, at least, tall when you were in Harry's body - blond man leaning casually beside a doorway at the end of the hall. He was dressed all in black, which made his blond hair and pale skin stand out all the more. He held his arms crossed in front of him, his right hand disappearing into the crook of his left elbow. His eyes were on Dean, and there was nothing welcoming about them. If Harry hadn't said so before, it was quite obvious now that Malfoy was no friend of his.   
  
As he got closer, the loathing in Malfoy's eyes changed to something else that Dean couldn't interpret, and Malfoy straightened, but kept his arms casually crossed. Dean heard Phil and Sam come to a stop just behind him.  
  
"Malfoy," Dean greeted, keeping his tone neutral.  
  
Malfoy moved his lips like he was about to return the greeting, then suddenly his arms were uncrossed and there was a wand nearly poking Dean in the throat.  
  
"Who are you?" Malfoy sneered.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam's heart leapt into his throat and he felt the familiar kick of adrenaline and made to move forward, only to have Phil put a hand to his chest, stopping him. Before Sam could tell him to get the hell off, Harry - the real Harry - was pulling the invisibility cloak off.  
  
"How did you know?" Harry asked innocently, as if there wasn't a wand pointed at Sam's brother's throat.   
  
"You don't intimidate me," Malfoy answered cooly. "Never have, never will." He lowered his wand then, and Sam relaxed slightly. "Now, can we get to business? I know Saint Potter can do whatever he wants, but some of us are here at great personal risk, and I don't appreciate being played with."  
  
Sam watched Harry scowl, while he said, "Sorry, Malfoy," as if it pained him.  
  
Malfoy eyed both Dean and Sam in puzzlement and finally said, "If I'm not mistaken, your double here and that bloke in the back are both getting taller."  
  
Sam's eyes widened, as he realized that his perspective was slowly changing.  
  
"Shit!" Harry said, and with a wave of his wand there was a curtain drawn over part of the hallway, "Behind the curtain! Clothes off before you wreck my favorite jeans!"   
  
Sam and Dean both scrambled, tripping over lengthening limbs as they threw themselves behind the curtain and quickly took their clothes off before any seams burst. Once the clothes were gone, they waited staring wide-eyed at each other until they were finished morphing back into themselves. Then two piles of neatly folded clothes, along with Dean's ring and amulet, levitated themselves around the edge of the curtain. Sam and Dean dressed quickly and stepped back around the curtain, handing Harry the smaller sets of clothes.  
  
"That was a little close for comfort," Dean said in his usual low rumble. Sam saw Malfoy's grey eyes widen, and bit back a smirk.  
  
"And which one of you did I just have at wand point?" Malfoy asked softly.  
  
"That'd be me," Dean said, raising one hand. Malfoy nodded slowly.  
  
"Which makes you," Malfoy's eyes rested on Sam, as he visibly swallowed, "the skinny kid in the back who looked like he wanted to punch me?"  
  
"That's right," Sam said, and if he lowered his voice a little, what did it matter?  
  
"Well," Malfoy said, his grip on his wand tightening, even though he had it pointed at the floor. "I can see why you needed to change clothes so quickly." Sam  _did_  smile at that but, oddly enough, it only seemed to make the blond wizard more nervous.  
  
"Potter..." Malfoy started. "Care to tell me what the hell you've gotten me into?"  
  
"Right," Harry replied, and Sam could tell he was biting back a smile himself. "Draco Malfoy, I'd like you to meet Dean and Sam Winchester." Harry gestured to them as he spoke their names. "Dean and Sam, this is Draco Malfoy, an old... acquaintance, who happens to work in the Department of Mysteries back in Britain."  
  
"Or did anyway; I'm sure Potter will either get me fired or killed tonight," Malfoy replied and, to Sam's surprise, actually sounded like he believed it.  
  
"You and me both," Phil muttered.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Dra- urr, Malfoy," Harry said. "This is Phil O'Shaughnessy, Senior Auror. Phil, this -"  
  
"I know who Mr. Malfoy is, Harry," Phil answered curtly, surprising Sam with his tone. He watched as Malfoy's eyes shuttered slightly, and only then realized that Malfoy had held himself stiff throughout all the introductions, and hadn't bothered offering his hand to anyone.  
  
"Well..." Harry said into the awkward silence. "Down to business then?"  
  
"Please," Malfoy drawled.  
  
"We need to get into the Department of Mysteries," Harry told Malfoy bluntly. Malfoy rolled his eyes.  
  
"As I recall from our fifth year, you are quite capable of doing that without my help," Malfoy replied, jaw tightening.   
  
"Right," Harry responded, and Sam watched as Harry's own jaw tightened and a darkness seemed to move behind his eyes. "And as you might also recall, that didn't exactly go  _well._ "  
  
"Well, you did manage to put my father in Azkaban, beat the Dar -" Malfoy cut himself off suddenly, and heaved a sigh. "Sorry. Why is it that you need my help this time?"  
  
Sam started to understand what Harry had been talking about before. The tension between Harry and Malfoy was stifling. Sam was beginning to wonder why the security guard from upstairs wasn't running down to see what all the awkwardness was about.  
  
"I'm not here for some half-cocked rescue mission," Harry answered. "I need to see the files and, in order to do that, I need an Unspeakable."  
  
"Well then, at your service," Malfoy replied with a casual flourish of his hand. "Though I don't see why you had to put my whole life at risk for a stupid file. You of all people should know what would happen to me if I was discovered breaking as many laws as I've already broken tonight. You nearly wrote my probation terms yourself, as I recall."  
  
"Which is also why you needn't worry about it," Harry responded flippantly.  
  
"Wait, wait," Dean spoke up. Sam knew what was coming because he was thinking it himself. "Azkavan? Files?  _Probation terms_? Harry, what the hell aren't you telling us and who exactly  _is_  this guy?!"  
  
Harry passed a hand through his hair, either in an attempt to mess it up further, or smooth it down, Sam couldn't be sure, because, like usual, Harry's hair remained the same regardless.   
  
"The file they have on you guys is in the Department of Mysteries," Harry began, "...the rest you don't need to know about."  
  
Sam watched as Malfoy seemed to eye him and Dean more closely, now that he knew they were the subject of a file in his own department. The look made Sam's skin crawl in the familiar way it did whenever Dean looked at him like he was a freak.  
  
"First thing's first though," Harry continued. "We've got to get you two protected. So, first stop is the Sliabh na Caillighe."  
  
Sam watched as Malfoy's eyes snapped back to Harry, but Harry had already turned his attention elsewhere. Sam hadn't heard Harry use that term before, but he and Dean both knew without asking that he meant the magic chamber.  
  
"Phil," Harry continued, slipping back into the authoritarian voice that reminded Sam of their father. "I'm leaving you out here as lookout."  
  
"Harry - " Phil began, but Harry gave him a glare that made even Sam flinch, and Phil's spine straightened and he responded with a firm, "Yessir."  
  
Harry gestured to the door beside Malfoy, and Malfoy turned and walked through first. Sam gave Phil what he hoped was an apologetic smile as he passed by.  
  
*  
  
Harry followed behind Malfoy and hoped that he wouldn't regret requesting his presence - well, regret it more so than he already did.   
  
Although Harry did feel bad for getting on Malfoy's bad side immediately by trying to trick him, the look on Malfoy's face when Dean and Sam had stepped around the curtain as themselves again had been worth it. He'd have to show that particular memory to Ron when he got home.   
  
Malfoy's reaction to Dean - as Harry - had been surprising, but then again, Harry had to admit that there was a moment in the alley after Dean had transformed that Harry had felt extremely intimidated. Harry couldn't decide if it was more bizarre to be intimidated by himself, or be intimidated by Deacon. Certainly, hearing Deacon's young voice talk about killing someone - a  _demon_ , Harry reminded himself - slowly, as though it had brought him pleasure to do so, was weird in and of itself. But what it said about the Winchesters - about Sam - was still a jumbled mess in Harry's head.  
  
Harry was so lost in thought, he didn't really take in the foyer to the Department of Mysteries until Dean's voice broke through his thoughts.  
  
"What the...?"  
  
Harry looked around. It was just like home, only instead of a circular room ringed with doors, it was a circular room ringed with staircases that hugged the walls. They slid over each other like snakes, leading to different hallways. Some staircases were only a few steps, and some seemed to reach three or four storeys high.  
  
The odd thing of course was that not all the staircases touched the ground; some started arbitrarily halfway up the wall, and others ended just as arbitrarily, leading nowhere. Just as Harry thought it couldn't get any more complicated, the stairways began to shift, melting into each other, lowering and rising through each other as though they were made of mercury, changing directions and end points, until staircases that had touched the floor before no longer did, and some that seemed accessible to the agile, now lay out of reach high above their heads. It all happened noiselessly, unlike the moving staircases at Hogwarts which tended to announce themselves with a grinding of stone on stone.  
  
Harry's eyes settled on Malfoy, who was looking at Dean and Sam with a superior smirk on his face.   
  
"You'd like to visit the Celestial Chamber of the Tuatha Dé Danann?" Malfoy asked to confirm.  
  
"That's right," Harry said.  
  
Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it at the upper level of hallways, and spoke the words  _Tuatha Dé Danann_  again. The stairs once again shifted, melting into each other until they formed a single staircase that wound itself four times around the room.   
  
"If your two large friends are done trying to catch flies..." Malfoy drawled, trailing off purposefully, as he made his way to the climb the stairs. Harry glanced at the Winchesters just in time to see them snap their jaws closed in unison and look embarrassed. With a small laugh, Harry picked up his pace and caught up with Malfoy, hearing the Winchesters casually fall into step behind him.  
  
"Wanting access to files, I understand," Malfoy said, as they finally reached the hallway at the top of the stairs. "But why do you need the Chamber? You must know what it does. You must know that it's not to be... toyed with."  
  
"I'm well aware of what it does," Harry answered calmly. "It's why I need it." In the name of keeping the peace, he left off the word 'obviously' and the eye-roll that he so desperately wanted to tack on to the end of his sentence. Instead, he had to agree that Malfoy was here at great personal risk, and he deserved the truth.  
  
"You're aware of why I'm in the states?" Harry asked.  
  
"Who isn't?" Malfoy answered sarcastically. "Our Savior off to rescue the Americans from Dementors. It's in all the papers." Harry glared at the side of Malfoy's head, and was only mildly surprised that when Malfoy caught Harry's eyes, he actually gave Harry a small sheepish smile.  
  
"We've been working on it, as well," Malfoy offered in a detached professional tone. "The Department of Mysteries, I mean. The Dementor movements, we think they're just a symptom of something larger..." Malfoy trailed off as they came to a stop in front of a large black stone door.   
  
"Do you know what the something larger is?" Sam suddenly asked.  
  
"Sam," Dean said in warning. Sam shot him an annoyed glance.  
  
"No," Malfoy stated, glancing suspiciously at the two brothers again, before turning back to Harry. "So, Potter, why do you need the chamber?"  
  
"I'm going to make the Winchesters some Patronus charms," Harry answered. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.   
  
"How kind of you," Malfoy drawled, "but can't they do that themselves?" Now it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow.   
  
"Uh, no, Malfoy. They're Muggles," Harry answered slowly, and yes, Harry would have to share this memory with Ron as well.   
  
Malfoy glanced back at the Winchesters, eyes wide. Sam looked concerned, but Dean just smirked at Malfoy and raised his hand in a little wave, as though Malfoy was seeing them for the first time. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  
  
"You..." Malfoy began, fumbling for words. "I...You...just had me take  _Muggles_  into the Department of Mysteries?!"  
  
"It's ok, man, they're cool," Harry answered in his best stoned-American accent, causing Dean to laugh, and Malfoy to pale even further. Harry was slightly saddened by the fact that Malfoy would never get the joke, and eventually just took pity on him.  
  
"Listen, we find that file, you'll hopefully see why I did this," Harry explained. "In the meantime, we need to use the Chamber before the moon sets, and I'll need you to manage the alignment for me."  
  
Malfoy still looked like he was trying to decide whether he should hyperventilate or kill Harry, or both, but much to Harry's relief, he just managed to nod and step away from the door.  
  
"Thanks, ma-...lfoy" Harry stated, tripping over his tongue when he realized he was about to call Malfoy 'mate'.  
  
Harry swung open the door and ushered Dean and Sam into the room. Sam immediately went to the walls and started tracing the etchings in the black stone with his fingertips. Dean strode into the centre of the room and peered up at the slit in the ceiling.  
  
"Is this onyx?" Sam asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "These crystals here, what are they?"  
  
"You'll have approximately twenty minutes, once the room is in position," Malfoy said from the doorway, ignoring Sam's questions. "I'll give you a few minutes to set up, and then I'm shifting the room. You cock this up, and I'm gone - I'm not even calling the Healers, do you understand?"  
  
"Loud and clear, Malfoy," Harry replied. "I'm well aware what house you were in."  
  
"Gryffindork," Malfoy muttered, as he slipped out of the heavy door and pulled it closed behind him.  
  
"What did he just call you?" Dean asked.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Harry smiled, moving to sit directly underneath the slit in the ceiling. "Alright, positions! I want Sam sitting cross-legged right here, hands on your knees." Harry pointed to a smooth floor stone to his right. "And Dean right there, same sitting style." Harry motioned to a smooth stone to his left.   
  
The Winchesters moved immediately to their positions. Meanwhile Harry settled down cross-legged on the floor himself, placing his forearms on his knees and holding his wand carefully in both hands. They formed a triangle in the centre of the room, the slitted ceiling bisecting them from Harry's point to the base between Dean and Sam.  
  
"We should feel the chamber shift" Harry explained. "Once Draco has it into position, we'll have about twenty minutes to get this right. What I need from you two is for you to stay very still and concentrate. I need you to think of your happiest memories. Any moments in your life when you felt the most content, the most joy, the most love. I need you to hold those moments in your head and focus all your attention on them."  
  
Harry looked at the Winchesters, both of whom looked mildly concerned. He had been afraid of this.  
  
"Um, it doesn't necessarily have to be a real memory..." Harry started. "I mean...it helps if it is. I'd prefer if it was. But the first time I did this I chose something that I had never actually experienced...I chose an illusion that I had seen once of my mum and dad. I think..." Harry frowned at what he was about to say, and hoped for the best. "I think the memories with love are the best ones to use for this."  
  
Harry watched as Sam nodded, and Dean averted his eyes from Harry, put on a look of determination, and then nodded as well. The sound of stone on stone filled the air as the sky cleared and the stars shifted above them.  
  
"Ok, here we go..."  
  
*  
  
Harry closed his eyes, but Sam watched as the first narrow beam of moonlight found its way through the slit in the ceiling. For the first few seconds, that was it - just one beam of moonlight cutting through the room. Then it shifted, poured in a little more, and caught in one of the crystals that lined the chamber in intricate patterns.   
  
The muted light reflected out at an angle, catching another crystal that had been hidden in darkness across the room, and was reflected again, and again, and again, around the room. In a matter of seconds, the previously shadowed room was awash with a fine light that held an eerie tinge of blue.   
  
Sam watched enraptured as the light seemed to intensify and Harry took an audible deep breath, as though someone had placed cold fingers at the base of his spine...or - Sam blushed - warm fingers elsewhere. A small beatific smile spread across Harry's face, as a sourceless wind seemed to swirl around him. Harry's hair was once again lifted off his forehead, revealing the odd zigzag scar.  
  
Sam glanced over to Dean, only to see that he too was staring at Harry. Dean sensed Sam's gaze and met his eyes, a mutual look of 'what have we gotten ourselves into?' passing between them.   
  
As if sensing their thoughts, Harry chose that moment to open his eyes. It did nothing to assuage their fears. Sam was quite used to the brilliant green of Harry's eyes. Hell, he had looked into similar eyes every day of his life, save the four years he spent at Stanford. But now Harry's eyes carried something else behind them, something that seemed to shine through them, making them even brighter - more brilliant, more pure. Whatever the crystals were doing to the light of the moon, it was filling Harry with more power - more magic. Sam swallowed, suddenly realizing just how much he and Dean were trusting this stranger.  
  
"Relax," Harry said, voice even and smooth. "Close your eyes. Think of your happiest memory. Don't let me distract you. Concentrate on the memories, ignore my presence. I'll start with Dean."  
  
Sam laid his misgivings aside. Harry had only tried to help them so far. He closed his eyes and waited...  
  
" _Legilimens_ "


	13. Chapter 13

Harry had decided to start with Dean, because he needed the Patronus more than Sam, though Harry figured they ran a pretty tight race. In the back of his mind, Harry mainly just wanted to start with something simple. In everything so far, Dean appeared as pure Muggle, unlike Sam, who was something else. Although Harry had never done this before, he figured it would be simpler to try it on a Muggle first than trying to tackle whatever Sam was.  
  
With the amount of magic roaring through his body - and sweet Lord, it felt good - Harry didn't need to make eye contact, or even have his eyes open for that matter. He simply spoke the incantation and opened the door to Dean's mind with a concentrated thought.   
  
Dean's thoughts presented themselves like scenes from a TV show. There was a dark-skinned woman, naked and... Harry blushed, well technically it  _was_  a happy memory. He gathered the ambient magic in the room around him and willed it towards Dean, creating a link between them. Harry could suddenly feel the breath in Dean's lungs, his determination to block out the distractions of the room and stay in his memories, his swirling emotions.  
  
Harry couldn't tell if Dean knew about the link, or even if he knew that Harry was roaming around in his head. So far, Dean remained sitting still, conventrating on the memories as instructed. Harry was thankful for that. Since Harry had asked Dean to think of the memory, he didn't need to go rooting around in Dean's mind. So, unlike the invasion of the mind that Harry had experienced at the hands of Snape, it was more like Harry was passively eavesdropping without Dean's knowledge.  
  
Harry brought his attention back to Dean's memory. It had changed. Dean was growing frustrated. The dark-skinned woman was walking away. Harry felt the rejection. He felt, as Dean did, as though he had laid himself open, only to be spat upon.  
  
"New memory, Dean," Harry instructed out loud, and Dean's thoughts faded out and refocused. Dean was mowing a lawn in the sunshine, then sitting in a nice restaurant with Sam, two girls, and an older woman. Family, Harry thought, yet somehow it was off. Although Dean was happy, there was a bittersweet quality to it. Harry realized that it wasn't real, Dean was happy, but the memory was laced with an the odd melancholy of someone borrowing another life. Then, there was an odd sensation of missing Sam, even though he was sitting at the table.  
  
"Try something else, Dean," Harry said, hoping that he wouldn't need to come back to that one. It felt too strange. Dean's thoughts refocused again, and now there was Sam. Sam holding the box of tapes from the Impala in the morning sun, listing the bands, calling it mullet-rock, looking upset when Dean called him Sammy and turned up the music.   
  
Sam kissing a girl in a doorway. Sam laughing as Dean tried to pry a beer bottle out of his hand and cursing. Sam turning away from a mirror towards Dean in confusion, blood staining the back of his shirt and a bare mattress behind him - Sam  _back from the dead_. Harry cringed as Dean's emotions flooded into him through the link, happiness, love - so much love - so much desperation - fear - love.  
  
"New memory, Dean," Harry repeated, his voice choked. Dean's thoughts were pulled back sharply, leaving Harry's connection momentarily bereft. A new scene appeared. An older man stood over Dean, hand on his shoulder. He wore a five-day old beard and his grip was strong and steady.  _Dad,_  Harry thought, and honestly didn't know if it was his thought or Dean's. Dean held the gun steady, fingers just long enough to reach the trigger. In the distance, bottles sat on the fence. One, two, three, four, five, six - one for each year he had lived - the shots rang out across the field, loud and deafening, but Dean wasn't frightened. He looked up at his father, who was looking at the shattered bottles. His Dad smiled.  
  
"Dean, concentrate on the memory and speak the words ' _Expecto Patronum_ '," Harry said, helping Dean to hold the memory in his head despite the distraction of Harry's voice.   
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Dean repeated uncertainly, and Harry felt the magic manifest - blurry and vague in front of Dean. Harry opened his eyes, and took in the indeterminate shape, It wasn't quite there yet.  
  
"Again," Harry said, closing his eyes again to better track Dean's memories. The same memory, the feel of the gun, the shattered glass, the smile...then the scene shifted. At first the angle didn't make sense to Harry, but then he recognized the interior of the Impala, the back of Dean's father's head, the morning sun streaming through the windows, the rumble of the engine, the pleasant groggyness of sleep, Sam curled against Dean's side sound asleep with Dean's right arm draped over his shoulders. Dean caught his father's eyes in the rearview mirror. Dean smiled and his father smiled back, and Sam made a mewing noise and burrowed further into Dean's chest.  
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Dean said evenly, and Harry opened his eyes as he felt the magic manifest sharper than it had before. The blue light in the rest of the room dulled, as it swirled in front of Dean to form an animal. Harry's breath caught.  
  
Standing in front of Dean was a large silvery-blue wolf - powerful, beautiful, strong. Harry had seen wolf Patronuses before, but this one was different. This one made the others pale in comparison. It was the eyes, the way they seemed to look around the room - at Harry, at Sam. The only way Harry could describe it was to say that the wolf  _knew_. It knew.  
  
"You can open your eyes for this next part," Harry said, "but hold onto the emotions from that memory."  
  
Harry watched as both Dean and Sam opened their eyes. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the wolf, but then he smiled. Harry smiled too. It wasn't uncommon for Wizards to recognize the Patronuses of their loved ones without ever having seem them previously. Harry knew the feeling well. After all, he had followed a silver doe through the forest once without knowing the caster, and Snape had hardly been a loved one.  
  
Dean's eyes took in the wolf and he smiled, the same smile Harry had seen reflected in the rearview mirror.   
  
Harry began the necessary incantations quietly, so as not to break Dean's mood. First he worked to alter the Patronus' dependency on Dean's emotions. This required pouring a lot of his own magic into the charm, as it went against the nature of a Patronus to be independent. Once the link was as small as he could make it, he began the work of transfering the Patronus into a non-corporeal form that was just as strong. After chanting incantations for a solid five minutes, the wolf swirled in front of them, losing shape and twisting, as it funneled itself backwards towards Dean. It swirled around him once, until Harry was able to direct it properly to the silver ring on Dean's hand, which glowed blue for a second and then faded back to silver. Harry smiled kindly at the bereft expression on Dean's face.   
  
"Don't worry," Harry stated. "As long as you have that ring, it's still with you."   
  
It had all taken under ten minutes, but Harry felt like it had been hours. Taking a deep breath, he refocused the magic in the room back to himself, letting it ease some of the fatigue that he was already feeling.   
  
"Now, Sam," Harry said, once he felt at ease with the amount of magic in the room again, and slid his eyes closed as Sam did the same.  
  
" _Legilimens_ "  
  
*  
  
Sam closed his eyes, and tried to decide on a memory. Since Dean had gone first, he knew what to expect - for instance he knew that Harry might ask him to change memories if the one he chose wasn't working...or at least he  _thought_  he knew what to expect.  
  
No sooner had he started thinking about his first date with Jess, than he felt a weird second presence in his mind. He realized that it was Harry. Harry was in his head. Had Dean felt this? His instinct was to shut Harry out, to close the doors that Harry had opened, to hide all his good memories where Harry couldn't get them.  
  
"Sam," Harry's voice echoed in the chamber. "I'm sorry, but it's not going to work if don't let me in."  
  
"Sam...?" Dean said concerned, Sam realized Dean must have let Harry see his memories. And if Dean could do it...  
  
"Right...right, sorry," Sam replied, and focused back on the memory, only now Dean was in his head, so instead of thinking of his first date with Jess, Sam thought about the weekend he'd spent with Dean in Jericho. How it had been nice to see Dean again after all those years, how it had finally felt like his life was coming together - he had his girlfriend, he was on speaking terms with his brother.  _That_  had been a happy moment - when he bit into that cookie and flopped down on the bed. Only Jess had been pinned to the ceiling and fire was everywhere, and Sam's whole life was in pieces.  
  
"Sam," Harry cut through his thoughts, and Sam couldn't tell if Harry was speaking into the room or just into his mind. "A new memory please," Harry finished in a whisper.  
  
Sam refocused. Thinking of Jess had been a bad idea. He mentally shuffled through his life, trying to decide on a memory that would work. There were memories of Dean. Dean covered in mud, calling him a bitch. Dean trying to pry a beer bottle off of his hand while Sam laughed at him. Dean smiling at him from the sidelines of the soccer field, looking over his shoulder in case their Dad realized that he wasn't bow-hunting and came looking for him. There was Dean singing along to Bon Jovi like they didn't have a care in the world, even though Dean was going to die - even though in a couple of hours the hell-hounds were going to rip Dean to shreds while Sam screamed.  
  
"Sam," Harry's voice cut in again. "You, uh, almost had it there...but..."  
  
Sam mentally shook himself and tried again. There was Dean standing outside his hotel room next to Bobby. Alive. Bobby telling Sam it was really Dean. Dean's chest breathing against his, the familiar way Dean grabbed the back of Sam's shirt whenever he hugged him. Dean hugging him. When Sam was really young, Dean would kiss his forehead and hum Led Zeppelin songs until Sam fell asleep. And if Sam had a nightmare, Dean would hug him tightly, scrunching the back of his shirt, and would say, "Shh Sammy, I got you," in a gentle voice.  
  
"That one," Harry whispered, and Sam held onto the ghost of the memory. As he did so, he felt the hairs on his arm stand up, as a power seemed to flow into him from his left-hand side. It hummed through his veins in a similar way that to demon blood after a hit; but different - it didn't feel dirty like the demon blood, it felt almost natural. It was as though this power was always around him, and he had just never noticed it before. It felt good.  
  
"Concentrate, Sam, ignore my presence," Harry said, and Sam realized that the power he felt was Harry's, this was Harry's power - the core of Harry's magic. Harry's voice continued, "The words are  _Expecto Patronum_." Sam refocused on the memory, the Led Zeppelin song, Dean's voice.   
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Sam said, and felt the magic running through him surge forward out of him quickly, swirling in front of him in turmoil. Sam opened his eyes to see a mess of concentrated blue-light hit Dean square in the chest.  
  
"Shit!" Harry swore as Dean rocked back slightly and struggled to breathe, his eyes wide open, green eyes turning silvery-blue.   
  
"Dean!" Sam yelled, and moved to stand up.  
  
"DON'T MOVE!" Harry yelled. Sam froze. Harry's wand was pointed at Dean.  
  
" _Finite Incantatum!_ " Harry said, and Dean swayed again. Sam watched in relief as the silver blue tinge left his eyes and the familiar green returned. Dean took a steadying breath and looked at Sam.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Dean wheezed.  
  
"How the hell should I know!" Sam replied. Both brothers turned to Harry, and Sam was surprised to see that Harry's breathing was laboured and his face pale.  
  
"Harry?" Dean asked, obviously noting the same thing.   
  
"We don't have much time left," Harry said, instead of answering any of their questions. "Again, Sam. I'm going to...umm, I'm going to try to use Dean as a kind of grounding in our connection. He won't be able to see your memories, but he'll be able to feel them. Is that ok?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever you say, Harry," Sam answered, just as Dean said, "Sure thing, man." Harry was very pale, and Sam's only thought was that the sooner they were done, the better it would be.  
  
"Ok, Dean, clear your mind and think about Sam," Harry said, taking a deep breath. Sam could feel the energy in the room swirling around Harry once more. "Sam, concentrate on the memory you used, when I tell you, say the words."  
  
Sam closed his eyes again and thought of the memory. This time he could recognize the exact instant that Harry re-entered his mind. He ignored Harry's presence, and focused further on the memory. Harry's magic swirled through him again, humming in his veins. Then he felt a prickle of something else, something that didn't belong to him and didn't belong to Harry. He knew this was Dean, skirting around the very edges of his consciousness. It was just a vague feeling of his brother, yet it matched up so well with the memory - this feeling of  _I've got you, Sammy._ ' The memory seemed clearer with Dean's presence there, as though it wasn't a memory at all, but happening while they sat there.   
  
"Now," Harry whispered.  
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Sam said calmly and evenly. Again, he felt the magic swirl out of him in a rush but, before he could panic, he felt Dean's presence envelop him. It was as though Dean acted as a dam, preventing the magic from overwhelming Sam as it had before. Sam focused on the memory as the magic stopped rushing out of him and seemed to change into a steady flow.  
  
"Open your eyes," Harry said, and Sam did.  
  
In front of him stood a large raven. Sam was only surprised by the fact that he wasn't surprised. He hadn't known what animal to expect, but for some reason the raven seemed to make sense.  
  
Dean was looking at it too, one eyebrow quirked up quizzically. As the raven took in the room, its eyes settled on Dean. It stretched its wings out to their full span and looked at him defiantly. Dean's eyes widened. Sam smiled. In the back of his mind, he could still feel Dean. ' _So this is you, eh, Sammy?_ ' and Sam thought, ' _I guess so._ '  
  
The raven spun and swirled into silvery-blue light, and for a moment Sam was worried that something was wrong again, but then he realized that Harry had been chanting under his breath, and this was the same as what had happened to Dean's wolf. The swirling energy flew towards Sam, to his wrist and the narrow black band on it. Only, when the blue light faded, the narrow band was oddly a little wider; about as wide as Dean's silver ring.  
  
Sam smiled. It had worked. He felt Dean's relief just before their connection was abruptly cut off.  
  
"How much time do we have left?" Harry asked weakly, and Sam's eyes widened at how pale Harry was. He looked like he was suffering from severe bloodloss.  
  
"About two minutes, I think," Dean said, looking at his watch, and eyeing Harry in increasingly panicked concern.  
  
"Oh God," Harry moaned. "Someone go get Malfoy!"


	14. Chapter 14

Dean was up and running to the door before Sam had even unfolded his legs. He ran over to Harry, figuring it was safe to move around now that Harry didn't seem to be channeling any of the power in the room. Come to think of it, although the room was still bathed in light, Sam didn't feel the same power in it as he had felt before. The light was just white moonlight now, without the bluish tinge that Sam had assumed the strange crystals had given off.  
  
"Harry?" Sam said. "What's wrong? What's happened?"  
  
Suddenly, the light in the room seemed to shift, the power returning briskly. Sam heard the door swing shut, and the light in the room increased. The blue tinge returned. The power was back, but it felt slightly different.  
  
"Move back," Malfoy's voice said from behind Sam. "I don't have much time."  
  
Sam scrambled out of the way. He stood a short distance away, surprised to find Dean right beside him. He watched as Malfoy knelt in front of Harry and picked up Harry's limp and shaking hands, holding them in his own hands together with their wands.   
  
"I'm sorry, I have to do this quickly," Malfoy murmured.  
  
Suddenly, the invisible wind picked up again, this time swirling around the blond wizard. There was a muttering of vaguely Latin-sounding words and then many things happened at once: Malfoy closed his eyes and suddenly the wind was rushing at Harry, swirling around both wizards. The light in the room seemed to intensify. Harry's body went rigid and he threw his head back, eyes wide, in a loud gasp, as though he had been deprived of oxygen his whole life and could only now breathe. Harry would have collapsed all the way onto his back, if Malfoy's grip on his hands hadn't been keeping him in the sitting position.  
  
Malfoy kept up the slow muttering, and Harry's eyes slid closed as he seemed to need to concentrate on breathing. Sam's adrenaline was so high, it was hard to tell time, but it must have been after only a minute that the light started to disappear from the room. The moon was setting, its light no longer reaching the opening in the chamber ceiling. Malfoy slowly lowered Harry down until he was lying on the stone floor. He gently folded Harry's right hand around Harry's wand, and pocketed his own wand. Sam actually thought it looked quite touching, until Malfoy spoke.  
  
"You tell anyone about this, Potter, I'll kill you, I swear," Malfoy threatened in a low tone.  
  
"Same goes for you, you stupid git," Harry muttered from the floor, running a hand over his face and grimacing.  
  
"You're welcome, you ungrateful sod," Malfoy shot back. "Now if you're done killing yourself in order to save total strangers - Gryffindor idiot - I believe you dragged me here to be your personal librarian, not your medi-wizard."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled from the floor. "Just give me one bloody minute, impatient prick."  
  
"Fine," Malfoy ground out. "I'll wait in the hall while you... _collect yourself._ "  
  
Malfoy rose off the stone ground and turned to face Sam and Dean.  
  
"You Muggles didn't see anything, got it!" he sneered. "Or I'll obliviate you myself."  
  
Both Sam and Dean held up their hands in surrender until Malfoy had left the room. Sam smiled as Dean gave an exaggerated eye-roll. Sam immediately strode back over to Harry, kneeling down beside him. He felt Dean stand behind him to peer down at Harry over his shoulder. Harry, for his part, had flung an arm over his face and seemed content to continue to lie there, eyes buried in the crook of his elbow.  
  
"Harry?" Sam tried again.  
  
"That was, quite possibly, the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me," Harry said with a groan.   
  
"Uh, we don't even know what happened, so umm..." Dean mumbled, "...don't worry about it?"  
  
Harry raised his arm at that, and blinked up at them in thought.  
  
"Oh, right," Harry replied. "Well then...uh, everything's fine. Nothing happened at all." Sam smiled reassuringly. Then Harry blinked again and smiled. "So? Did it work? Let's have a look!"  
  
At first Sam had forgotten what it was they were talking about, and then the whole reason they were in this chamber to begin with came rushing back to him. He reached for his bracelet and twisted it around so that he could see the underside. Meanwhile, Dean - with much pulling - took off his ring and held it up in the dim light.  
  
There, flying around the inside of his bracelet in lazy loops, was the silvery-blue raven. Sam smiled at Harry, who sat up slowly and peered at Sam's wrist himself.   
  
"Brilliant!" Harry said.  
  
Dean dropped into a crouch beside Sam and held his ring out for them to see. There, glinting in the faint light, blue against the silver of the ring, was Dean's wolf - just sitting there, gazing back at them.  
  
"Excellent," Harry smiled. "Now, I've hopefully made them permanent, but it's experimental magic, so I can't be sure. In any case, they should hold until we get this Dementor business cleared up, and then it doesn't matter as much if they fade."  
  
Sam didn't really like the idea of losing the raven, whether or not he needed him and, judging by the look on his face, Dean felt the same way about his wolf.  
  
"It would still help," Harry continued, "if you thought of happy memories when you see or think that there are Dementors around. It will strengthen the charm, as it was impossible for me to make your Patronus completely independent from your thoughts."  
  
Sam and Dean nodded, and Dean slid his ring back on. They both stood, waiting to move onto the next thing. Harry lifted a hand towards them from his position on the ground.  
  
"Give a fellow a hand, would you?" Harry said. Sam watched Dean's brow furrow slightly, but he dutifully grasped Harry's hand and pulled him to standing. Sam watched as Harry swayed on his feet for a second, before finding his footing. Sam wasn't surprised when instead of letting go of Harry's hand, Dean simply moved his grasp to Harry's elbow and began walking them both slowly to the door. Sam slipped into step on Harry's other side, throwing a concerned look over Harry's head towards Dean.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, really," Harry replied, but he didn't shake off Dean's offer of support. "That was just a little bit harder than I expected." Harry smiled at Sam, then held his gaze a fraction longer than necessary, and Sam understood. It was because of him, what was in him. Sam broke eye contact.  
  
"Though, I wouldn't have died, like Malfoy implied," Harry continued. "He's always been a bit melodramatic."  
  
"So, what would have happened if he hadn't done whatever the hell he did?" Sam asked.  
  
Harry sighed. "I just...exhausted myself. It happened to me a few times in school - though I didn't know what it was at the time. Basically, I would have fallen into a coma for a day or two."  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow and flung open the wide door and stepped into the hallway, Dean and Harry following close behind. He was surprised to see Malfoy sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, head tipped back and staring blankly at the ceiling.  
  
"You alright?" Sam asked, because although Sam had only known Malfoy for a half an hour or so, he didn't seem to be the type to sit on the floor. Malfoy glanced briefly up at Sam.  
  
"Do you ever wonder if you've been cursed?" Malfoy muttered. Sam blood froze. He really hoped that the question was rhetorical.  
  
"I thought you were going to abandon me if anything went wrong, Malfoy," Harry said from behind Sam. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Malfoy rolled onto his feet and stood up.  
  
"Yes, well, the two Muggles were still alive, weren't they?" Malfoy shot back haughtily. "They could have identified me in court, and I don't fancy watching my son grow up from behind the bars of Azkaban."  
  
"Aw, you really do care," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He shrugged off Dean's assistance and motioned down the hall. "Shall we try to find that file now?"  
  
Malfoy just nodded and led the way back towards the foyer.   
  
*  
  
Harry's thoughts were storming through his head like a whirlwind, now that he had enough strength to actually think. The wolf - the wolf he understood. The raven....he had hoped that Sam's Patronus would shed some light on who Sam was, and Harry had to resign himself to the fact that it had. It just wasn't the kind of light he wanted. The raven was as ambiguous as it was intelligent.   
  
What really had Harry's mind working was what had happened on his first attempt to make Sam's Patronus. He had done everything the same as he had for Dean, everything. Yet, Sam had sensed him immediately, whereas Dean had not, and then there was what happened the first time Sam had tried to form a corporeal Patronus. The magic had felt unstable, but Harry had not been prepared for how badly it reacted to Sam speaking the incantation. Harry had never seen anything like it. It was as though the Patronus had been trying to form inside of Dean or...  
  
"Wait, what do you mean he could see?" Dean's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife from behind him. Harry tensed, realizing the Winchesters had been talking in low tones for sometime now.   
  
"You didn't feel him?" Sam responded. "He was watching everything in my head, man...I thought...I thought you knew..."  
  
Suddenly there was a hand curled around his arm, and Harry was spun around and pinned to the nearest wall.  
  
"You were in my head?" Dean was furious.  
  
"I had to," Harry said, trying desperately to remain calm. He glanced over at Sam in the hopes of some sort of rescue, but apparently luck wasn't on his side. It was clear that Sam had only been alright with Harry viewing his memories, if he thought Dean had been alright with it. Harry was glad this hadn't occurred in the Chamber, or they'd most likely all be dead.  
  
"Those were  _my_  memories," Dean said fiercely, slamming Harry against the wall again to bring his attention away from Sam.  
  
"I had to in order for the spell to work, I'm sorry. I'll..."  
  
"Drop it!" Sam interrupted him, and Harry looked at him in confusion, only to discover that Sam was glaring at Draco. Sam hadn't moved. He had no weapon, yet the threat was still there. Harry glanced over at Draco to see him with his wand at the ready, looking cautiously at Sam.  
  
"It's alright, Malfoy, put it away," Harry said. Thankfully, Draco actually chose to obey him, and Harry saw Sam relax slightly.  
  
"How much did you see?" Dean asked.  
  
"Every memory you tried, nothing more," Harry explained, voice falsely calm. "I didn't go looking at anything else. I know you're angry, but it was the only way. I swear it was the only way." Dean's grip lessened.  
  
"What if I make it up to you?" Harry said. "I had this teacher once...taught me the whole mind-reading thing. He was a bastard though..." Harry heard Draco huff a laugh, but ignored it, making sure his attention was focused solely on Dean. "...every session he would get in my head and look at whatever the hell he wanted, I could never stop him...then one day...one day, I saw his memories, and well, it was bloody horrible, but at least after that I felt like things were a little even between us."   
  
"The difference is that you're offering," Dean said.  
  
"I know," Harry winced, "but if I had told you beforehand...you would have chosen differently. You would have just stuck with the naked girls or something macho like that...you wouldn't have..."  
  
"Ok, ok!" Dean interrupted, finally letting Harry go. "I see your point. But you owe me."  
  
"Understood," Harry said, then turned to Sam. "Are we alright?"  
  
Sam seemed to be staring at Harry like he was reassessing him, but he nodded absently, as though his thoughts were really elsewhere. Harry gave him a smile, and then motioned to Draco to keep walking. He was worried for a second that Draco would refuse to turn his back on the Winchesters again, and he supposed it must have reached his eyes, because Draco gave him a glare and then turned abruptly on his heel and strode ahead as if he hadn't a care in the world. It reminded Harry eerily of Snape.  
  
The memories...on top of the oddity of how the magic had reacted to Sam, there were the memories that he had seen. The brief ones they hadn't used, the ones that had accidentally bled into bad memories. Sam alive in front of a blood stained mattress, and a flash of him dead and lying still. The boys singing along to some song in the car, and a flash of Dean getting ripped apart by hell-hounds, and Sam's overwhelming guilt...and Harry understood now. He couldn't believe he had forgotten. It had been one of the first things that Sam had said to him when they met - 'He sold his soul for me...' - Dean had made a deal. Harry felt like a fool for having pressed the issue in the alleyway, now that he knew the source of Dean's sudden anger at his questions. He had just been so caught up in worry over Riddle cheating death somehow, visiting horror upon his children....  
  
Suddenly, Sam's other words from the walk floated through his brain - "standard is ten years, but sometimes you just get one...sometimes you just get a few minutes." - Harry thought of what little was written in the Winchester file he _did_  have access to. He thought of the entry for the summer of 2006: _John Winchester dies; Muggle Doctors confused by Dean Winchester's sudden recovery._  
  
The pieces were falling into place, and it all revolved around deals. The Winchesters, it seemed, never got past the bargaining stage of grief. Their dad had made a deal for Dean, and Dean had made one for Sam...and Sam had tried - tried, but no demon would deal...and Harry understood now why Sam had delighted in killing the crossroads demon slowly, because in the end he was left with nothing, not even the power to sacrifice himself as his father and brother had before him.  
  
"Potter?" Draco clamped a hand down his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "You are about to walk down a staircase that isn't there."  
  
Harry blinked into the huge circular cavern and realized that the stairs had shifted back into their random locations, and, indeed, the staircase that had brought them up to the fourth floor was no longer waiting at the edge of the hallway.  
  
"Oh, right," Harry said rather pathetically.  
  
"Honestly, I'm beginning to think all the accolades for defeating the Dark Lord should have gone to Granger. You'd have gotten yourself killed a hundred times over on your own," Draco responded, taking out his wand and muttering things into the room.  
  
"Careful, Malfoy," Harry replied smirking, "or I'll tell her you said that."  
  
"Do and die, Potter," Draco warned as the stairs fitted themselves into another pattern, this time leading them from the fourth level to a doorway on the second level. Harry laughed and followed Draco down the stairs.  
  
The door led, not into a hallway, but into a vast room, with shelves upon shelves of scrolls and filing cabinets. It seemed to stretch on forever. Malfoy immediately moved to a small table near the door. On the table sat a blank piece of parchment, a feathered quill, and an inkwell.  
  
"Do you, by any chance, know what division of the Department is keeping the file on your friends?" Draco asked.   
  
"Umm..." Harry didn't actually know what divisions there  _were_  in the Department of Mysteries. The people who worked there were called Unspeakables for a reason - the whole thing was shrouded in mystery. "Do you have a division that investigates Hunters?" Harry asked, taking a wild stab in the dark.  
  
"No, that's an Auror's job," Malfoy answered as through Harry was an idiot, and then, Harry watched as realization slowly dawned across Draco's pale face. Draco's eyes swung back to take in Dean and Sam again; just as when he had learned they were Muggles, it was as though he were seeing them for the very first time.   
  
Harry had to bite back his smile as Dean smirked wickedly and waved at Malfoy yet again. Sam simply gave Malfoy a small nod of confirmation.  
  
"Hunters?" Malfoy all but squeaked. "Oh Merlin...I'm going to faint."  
  
And maybe, Harry thought afterward, it would have been better if Sam hadn't darted forward in a concerned attempt to make sure Malfoy didn't fall and hurt himself. Because Harry really couldn't blame Malfoy for reacting on instinct and hitting Sam with a defensive spell, and neither could he blame Dean for not reacting well to seeing his brother flying backwards...and in the end, Harry had to wonder whether he should get his reflexes checked, because that had all happened far too fast for him to prevent any part of it.


	15. Chapter 15

It felt good to hit something, Dean thought. Then he thought, ' _why can't I move?_ '  
  
That Malfoy guy was lying in a heap in front of him, holding his face, eyes wide and panicked, but his wand had flown out of his hand when Dean had punched him. Dean tried to turn his head to look at Harry, but it wouldn't move. He could move his eyes, but Harry was moving outside his field of vision.  _'That fucking Wizard'_ , Dean wanted to yell, but couldn't get his lungs to do anything but breathe. Dean had to admit that he was as panicked as Malfoy looked.  
  
"Sam?" Harry said from a little behind him.  
  
"I'm alright," Sam answered.  
  
"Sorry about that," Harry said. "I uh, didn't realize he would panic. Stupid of me - he always panics."  
  
Dean would have laughed at the way Malfoy's eyes narrowed and cut over to Harry in a glare, if he could do anything but breathe, and if he wasn't so goddamn angry.  
  
"What's wrong with Dean?" Sam's voice said from behind him, pitched higher in concern.   
  
"Sorry, I'll let him go, if he's calmed down," Harry's non-answer came. "See if Malfoy's bleeding, would you?" Then suddenly Dean's field of vision was filled with Harry, who looked up at him in measuring assessment.  
  
"Hey, Dean," Harry said. "I'm going to let you move now, but you can't hit Malfoy again, okay?"  
  
Dean's response was to glare, because he didn't know what other response Harry could possibly want from him. Behind Harry, Sam had knelt on the floor beside Malfoy. Malfoy immediately shifted frantically away and pressed himself against the leg of the table. Dean suddenly realized that Malfoy didn't just have some grudge against Hunters, he was well and truly terrified of them.   
  
He was so caught up in the realization, that he didn't catch the words Harry said. Suddenly, his body seemed to unlock, and Dean realized he could move again.  
  
Sam was still on the floor, beside Malfoy, a deep furrow in his brow, and all the lines in his forehead creased in concern. Harry turned from Dean before Dean could ask him what the hell he had just done to him, and held out a hand towards Malfoy. Dean didn't know what he was expecting - maybe for Harry to talk to Malfoy like the frightened kid that he appeared to be - but instead, once Malfoy had taken Harry's hand, Harry pulled him up roughly and said in exasperation, "That was quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do."  
  
Malfoy gawked at Harry like a fish for a minute, and then shook his head as though Harry had gone insane.  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" Malfoy said. "I've done far stupider things!"  
  
And Dean had to admit, it was pretty hard to stay angry when you were laughing. Sam looked like he might bite through his lip, he was trying so hard not to laugh. Harry gave Malfoy a blinding grin, then laughed again as Malfoy's pale skin slowly turned red as he realized what he had just said.  
  
"That's not..." Malfoy said. "That's not what I meant!"  
  
Dean watched as Harry sobered, and replied, "I know, I'm sorry." But Malfoy was obviously still angry about everything, and laughing at him hadn't helped. Dean hadn't known Malfoy for very long, but it was quite obvious that he was not the type of person who could easily laugh at himself.  
  
"What I  _meant,_ " Malfoy continued as though Harry hadn't spoken, "is that you are completely insane! You've not only had me sneak  _Muggles_ into the Department, but  _Hunters_ , are you trying to get us all killed? Goddamn it, Potter! You don't invite the snake to the mouse nest for tea!"  
  
"Hey," Dean spoke then, and Malfoy's head whipped towards him as though in his anger towards Harry, he had actually forgotten they were still there. "We're not here to kill anyone! If we were we would have done it by now; it's not like we haven't had plenty of opportunity!"  
  
"Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Really not helping."  
  
"Look," Dean said, "I'm sorry I hit you, alright, but you did something to Sam first."  
  
"He was-" Malfoy said defensively. Dean cut him off.  
  
"He was worried you were going to faint, you idiot," Dean finished for him. "He was trying to prevent you from hitting your head."  
  
Malfoy actually seemed at a loss for words, and Sam had the nerve to look a little sheepish.  
  
"Alright," Harry said. "Now that we've established that Sam and Dean aren't going to kill anyone, and Malfoy has done a lot of stupid things, can we get back to finding the file please?"  
  
Malfoy sighed, and scraped the chair along the floor as he sat down at the small desk.   
  
"We don't investigate Hunters," he reiterated, "so, I'll have to do a broad search. It might take some time." Malfoy dipped the feathered quill in the inkwell and poised his hand over the parchment.  
  
"You want your stick back?" Sam's voice suddenly said, and Dean looked over to find him holding Malfoy's wand out innocently. Sam must have picked it up at some point and no one had noticed.  
  
"Yes, thank you," Malfoy said evenly and let Sam drop it into his open left hand. Dean could tell that Malfoy was doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He glanced over at Harry and was surprised to find Harry's eyes darting back and forth between Sam and the wand, as though he had been expecting something to happen that hadn't. Dean didn't like it. He didn't like the fact that Harry knew Sam was different; hell, he didn't like the fact that Sam was different, but having someone be openly curious about it put him on edge.  
  
"Anything we can do to help?" Dean asked, hoping Malfoy would assign some task to Harry so that he'd stop eyeing his brother.  
  
"You can stop hovering," Malfoy snapped back. "Go amuse yourselves elsewhere, and I'll call you when I find something."  
  
"Okay, man, sorry," Dean muttered and put a couple of feet between him and Malfoy. Throwing a shrug towards Harry and Sam who also moved away, he said "We'll just go, umm...stand over here."   
  
"Enjoy," Malfoy drawled, and then began writing something on the parchment. Dean wasn't quite sure how writing was going to find a file. He watched as the words disappeared into the page and reformed into other words, which Malfoy bent over and wrote more words beside, which also morphed into more words.  
  
"Still hovering," Malfoy said.  
  
"Right, sorry." Dean reluctantly stepped over to where Harry and Sam were leaning up against some shelves and waited.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Dean was listening with half an ear as Sam fired questions at Harry, who answered them in various degrees of elaboration. Mostly, they were talking about the history and lore behind the Chamber and some ancient civilization. Sam would try to get Harry to elaborate on what the Department of Mysteries did, but Harry generally didn't seem to have very much information apart from the fact that they were sort of like scientists, but not really. Dean found himself gazing up and down the long rows of shelves and cabinets, wondering what kind of information he would find if he just picked something at random. Malfoy was still bent over the table, writing and reading whatever information the parchment was coughing back up to him.   
  
Occasionally, a roll of parchment or a file folder would fly through the air overhead and land on the table next to Malfoy. Harry always looked over eagerly when this happened, but so far Malfoy had always scanned the file, shaken his head, and released it, flicking his wand to make it fly back whence it came.   
  
Dean was just about to start wandering around looking for files himself, when a silvery-blue shape suddenly ran into the room. Dean tensed and Harry sprang to attention. It was a very small monkey.  
  
"Fuck," it said.   
  
The monkey lurched as if someone had shot it from behind and then disappeared.  
  
"Sam, with me," Harry spoke. "Dean stay with Draco," and it was that goddamn tone of voice again, that had Dean biting back a 'yessir'.  
  
"Wha - " Sam began, but Harry cut him off.  
  
"Phil's in trouble," Harry answered.  
  
"Our duffle," Dean demanded. "Give it here."  
  
Harry paused as if only just remembering that Sam and Dean were unarmed. He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled the duffle out. Dean would never get over how weird it looked to see something being pulled out of a bag that looked too small to hold it. Dean quickly unzipped the duffle and threw Sam his gun and a shotgun.  
  
"I doubt it's a ghost, Dean," Sam replied, tossing the shotgun back.   
  
"You aren't allowed to shoot anyone either," Harry replied, eyeing the gun.  
  
"Humour us," Dean replied.   
  
"Fine, let's go, Sam. Malfoy..." Harry seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say halfway through saying it, "if you make your escape, take Dean with you."  
  
"You've got to be joking," Malfoy said, glancing over at Dean.  
  
"Just do it," Harry replied.  
  
"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, but it was dripping with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes as he said it.  
  
With that, Harry nodded and walked out of the room, Sam at his heels.  
  
Dean reached into the duffle and pulled out his own gun, tapping the clip before loading it. He glanced over at Malfoy to find him staring at him warily.  
  
"Dude," Dean said. "I'm not going to shoot you, I promise."  
  
"Could you just...stand where I can see you," Malfoy replied, pointing to the small open area beside the desk. Dean assessed it and decided that he would still be able to see the door.  
  
"Yeah, okay," he replied, and noted that Malfoy seemed relieved. Though, Malfoy did glance back towards the door in concern before turning back to the parchment and writing with renewed speed.  
  
"What do you think the problem is?" Dean asked, hoping that Malfoy wasn't one of those people who hated being interrupted.  
  
"Probably just some security guard who wanted to bask in the light of 'The Chosen One'," Malfoy dismissed with an exaggerated eye-roll.  
  
"Ha, yeah, probably," Dean laughed. Malfoy looked up at him with a surprised smile. Dean wondered if maybe no one had laughed at Malfoy's jokes before. Harry had been chuckling at Malfoy's sarcasm all night, though. Dean supposed he had been forgiven for punching the dude in the face, even though he could already see that it was going to leave a nasty bruise.  
  
"So, did you fight with Harry in that war?" Dean asked, hoping to fill the silence left behind by Sam's departure.  
  
"That's one way to put it," Malfoy replied, pausing in his writing. Dean studied the wizard for a moment. He was about to conclude that the guy just didn't like being interrupted in his work, when Malfoy's eyes darted up to meet his and then flashed away again just as quickly. The question had put him more on edge.  
  
"What's another way to put it?" Dean asked slowly, suddenly getting an idea of why Harry had insisted that he and Malfoy were not friends.  
  
"Another way to put it," Malfoy said, finally meeting Dean's eyes in apparent defiance of whatever Dean's response would be, "would be to say that I was young, and stupid, and I made a mistake."  
  
"I read about what Lord Whateverhisnamewas did," Dean said after a pause. "Are you telling me you fought on  _his_  side? How-"  
  
"I was young, stupid and I  _made a mistake,_ " Malfoy repeated.  
  
"That's some mistake," Dean said derisively, re-evaluating the wizard in front of him - wondering how it was that Harry seemed to trust him now. For a few minutes, they didn't say anything. Then Malfoy's voice broke the uneasy silence.  
  
"I was trying to be a good son," Malfoy stated, and Dean's heart fell to his stomach. "In the beginning, I was just...trying to be what my father wanted. In the end, I was just trying to stay alive. The...Voldemort had moved into our house, my  _mother_  was the one that brought him his tea. If he questioned our loyalty..."  
  
Dean looked away as Malfoy trailed off. He tried to imagine what it would be like if his own father had been wrong; well, hell, maybe he  _had_ been wrong on some things - on Sam. Dean had let a nest of vampires go - and they never showed up on Dean and Sam's radar again. Dad had told him that he might have to kill Sam and that was stupid...Sam would never...Sam...  
  
"How'd you..." Dean started, but didn't really know what he was trying to ask. He finally settled on, "How'd you survive? In the end, I mean - because, obviously Harry doesn't have a problem trusting you, and you aren't dead or in prison."  
  
"Harry," Malfoy answered. "I like to think that he understood. But, when I ask him, he just calls me a git and says that my mother saved his life. Never mind that she saved his life  _after_  he had already saved mine." Dean watched as a small smile appeared on Malfoy's face. "Maybe he just enjoys getting on my nerves. It would spoil all his fun if I were dead or locked away."  
  
Dean laughed at that. He still didn't know what to make of it all, but then again, he really couldn't hold a grudge against Malfoy for what he'd done - not after what Dean himself had done...just to survive, just because he couldn't take it any more.  
  
"Alright, Winchester," Malfoy said, thankfully interrupting Dean's thoughts. "I think I'm finally getting somewhere here. You might want to watch your head."   
  
With that, Malfoy started making quick check-marks down the right side of the page. Dean heard the now familiar rustle and thunk of cabinets opening and papers rearranging themselves, and then realized that Malfoy had told him to stand directly in a flight path. Cursing, Dean dropped to the ground as stacks of papers and rolls of parchment flew towards the table right through where his head had just been.  
  
"Thanks for the warning," Dean grumbled, peering down the stacks of shelves cautiously, trying to see if there was anything else coming. When the coast seemed clear, he stood and leaned over the desk to see what Malfoy had uncovered, and was promptly met with pale hands covering as much of the page as possible.  
  
"Maybe Potter is alright with giving Hunters a personal tour of the Ministry, but I for one, would rather you  _didn't_  look at confidential documents. It's bad enough that  _I'm_  reading them, let alone Harry," Malfoy spoke tersely.   
  
"But those papers are about me and my brother!" Dean argued, "I've got a right to see them."  
  
"I'll let Harry determine that," Malfoy stated. "There's no telling what's in here. You might not like it and decide to shoot me in anger!"  
  
Dean held his hands up, which would have been a much more calming gesture had he not still had the gun in his hands. Malfoy tensed and Dean winced at his mistake.  
  
"I'm not going to shoot you over a stupid file," Dean said.  
  
"Then kindly wait by the door until Harry comes back," Malfoy replied and then added, "please."  
  
"Fine," Dean huffed, "but don't go anywhere with it." He walked over and propped himself next to the door, in a good position in case whatever came through next wasn't Sam or Harry.  
  
Malfoy simply rolled his eyes, muttered a "thanks" and turned back over the stacks of paper. Dean divided his attention between watching Malfoy for any sign of reaction to what he was reading, and looking at the back of the door wondering if Harry and Sam had gotten nabbed by Roger: Magic Security Guard Extraordinaire.  
  
What seemed like an eternity later, but was probably only ten minutes, the door handle turned and in walked Harry with Sam's large frame beside him. Dean breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, but tensed as he registered the blood on Harry's face.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, making Sam frown and Harry jump slightly. He reached for Harry's face and turned it towards the light. There was a large gash along the hairline.   
  
"It's not that bad," Harry said, and Dean could tell he was doing his best not to reflexively pull himself away. "Head wounds always bleed a lot."  
  
"I know," Dean stated, then asked again, "What the hell happened?"  
  
"We've got trouble," Sam replied, and Dean really wished he didn't understand by the tone exactly what kind of trouble Sam was talking about:  _Our kind of trouble._


	16. Chapter 16

**_*Previously with Harry and Sam*_ **  
  
Harry flew out the door of the Departmental Library and into the foyer. Phil was standing just inside the entrance. The stairs had rearranged themselves again, but luckily they were just on the second floor. So Harry simply ran down the stairs until they ended midway to the ground and then jumped the rest of the way. Sam did the same two steps behind him.  
  
"What's the problem, Phil?" Harry asked, wondering why Phil was just standing there when his Patronus had used the Phil-code for a high-level emergency. Harry already had his wand ready, but he was surprised when Phil raised his own wand.  
  
"He's the problem!" Phil said calmly and a bolt of red left his wand, flew over Harry's head and hit Sam in the chest, before Harry could even get out a defensive spell.  
  
Sam staggered backwards, but didn't fall, much to Harry's amazement.   
  
" _Petrificus Totalus,_ " Harry countered to Phil, but Phil rolled out of the way. Another  _Stupefy_   was sent towards Sam, but Harry was able to put up a quick blocking charm.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry got out between blocks and counter-curses, keeping Sam securely behind him. Most of Phil's spells were going wide, which didn't make any sense for a skilled Auror. Sometimes he would make a movement and nothing would happen at all, while other times one of the wide spells would hit the wall hard enough to break the stone.  
  
"They were supposed to keep you apart, not pull you together!" Phil growled back, sending another shot over their heads.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. He knew Sam had his gun out, and he desperately wanted to find out what had gotten into his friend before the Hunter decided to pull the trigger.  
  
"Keep the Winchesters comatose, while we play with the Saviour," Phil sneered. "Separate, not together. You came too fast - too desperate to get away from the ball and chain and those brats she spawned."   
  
"Exorcizamus te!" Sam said from behind him, and Harry wondered briefly what spell Sam was trying to use, until he saw Phil's eyes turn completely black. Well, Harry thought, that explained what had gotten into him.  
  
Phil tried to curse Sam again, but Sam quickly stepped out of the way. Harry saw Sam lower his gun out of the corner of his eye. He tried to fire another binding spell at Phil - the demon wearing Phil. Sam or Dean would know an exorcism, he just had to get Phil bound somehow.  
  
"How many of you are there?" Sam asked in a cold tone, as though the demon was already bound - already at their mercy. Harry hadn't heard Sam use that tone of voice before, and it sent a shiver down his spine.   
  
"We are legion," the demon responded, laughing. Harry used the opportunity to try to  _Stupefy_  the demon again. The demon managed to avoid it and send another curse towards Sam, except the curse sputtered out to nothing at the end of the wand.   
  
"Enough with these stupid magic tricks," the demon said frustrated, throwing Phil's wand away. It raised a hand and the next thing Harry knew he was flying through the air. His head hit the edge of a staircase and for a moment everything went black. Then Sam's voice filtered through.  
  
"I'd get out of him, if I were you," Sam said evenly in the same cold tone as before. Harry marveled at how Sam still sounded as though they had the upper hand, even though Harry was disarmed. A gun would kill Phil - so effectively Sam was disarmed as well, and Harry could feel blood slowly dripping down his forehead.  
  
"No, you aren't supposed to interfere...they were supposed to..." Harry's vision finally swam back into focus, and he looked to see why the demon seemed to be having trouble completing sentences. What he saw made him wonder just how hard he had hit his head.  
  
Sam was standing in the middle of the room, arm and hand outstretched towards the demon, his eyes hard and his mouth in an angry snarl. The demon meanwhile was standing as if frozen to the spot, clutching at its throat.  
  
Drifts of black smoke began spilling out from Phil's mouth, swirling down to pool at his feet. Harry watched mesmerized as Phil fell to his knees after the last of the black fell to the ground. Then, as though he was watching a fire in reverse, the smoke curled into the floor and seemed to turn briefly to coals, before vanishing altogether, leaving Phil to collapse on the black stained stone.  
  
Harry felt like his head was spinning, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the head wound.  
  
*   
  
Sam lowered his hand and then sprinted over to where Phil lay sprawled on the stone floor. The demon couldn't have been in him for long, so really he should only be shaken but not injured. Sam rolled him over and felt for a pulse, finding one easily. It was only then that Sam let himself worry about Harry. He found himself hoping that Harry had been knocked out by that throw and hadn't seen what Sam had just done.   
  
Mentally crossing his fingers, Sam turned slowly to look at where Harry had fallen. Sam's heart sank when he discovered that Harry was not only awake, but was studying him so openly that Sam could practically see his thoughts, feel the conclusions he was already drawing.  
  
"Shit," Sam muttered under his breath, then cleared his throat. "Uh, Phil's alright, just unconscious. Um, how's your head?" Really, Sam thought, he could have made that sound a little more confident.  
  
Harry seemed to take a moment to decide how to respond. Sam wasn't surprised. Harry would treat him differently now, he figured. Now that he knew just how much of a freak Sam really was.  
  
"I've had worse," Harry replied finally, and pulled himself to his feet. Sam watched him as he crossed the room, picking up his own wand and Phil's wand along the way. He joined Sam and knelt down beside Phil, then reached out and smacked the older man gently.  
  
"Phil?" Harry said, as Phil groaned and cracked his eyes open. Phil looked around in confusion for a second, and then widened his eyes at Harry and scrambled to his feet.  
  
"Fuck! You're bleeding! There's black smoke!" Phil said in a rush of words, looking around frantically. "Not smoke, black...black...shit, how'd I get here? What's going on?"  
  
"Phil, calm down," Harry said, just as Sam spoke up.  
  
"Phil, you were possessed by a demon. It's gone now. I took care of it," Sam explained slowly. This wasn't the first time he had done this, after all, he practically had a speech memorized.  
  
"Shit," Phil muttered, "demons aren't supposed to possess wizards! That's a goddamn Muggle problem!"  
  
"Phil," Harry replied, and Sam was surprised to hear Harry's voice grow stern. It was a marked difference to the gentle voice Sam had been trying to use on Phil. "Demons are a problem for everybody. Don't make excuses for being complacent."  
  
"Sorry, sir," Phil replied genuinely.   
  
"Good," Harry said. "Now, Sam and I are going to return to the library before Malfoy gets nervous and makes his escape. Do you mind cleaning up after yourself, or well...not yourself?"  
  
"No, sir," Phil said, standing as Harry handed him his wand. Phil paused briefly, and then asked, "Harry...did you disarm me?"  
  
"No," Harry said, and much to Sam's confusion Phil actually looked relieved. "The demon was having the case-book trouble controlling magic. It chose to discard your wand."  
  
Phil nodded and turned to catalog the damage to the room. Harry motioned for Sam to follow him, then proceeded to pull himself up on a staircase that didn't touch the floor. When they had successfully made their way back to the door of the library, Harry turned and faced Sam.  
  
" _Muffliato,_ " Harry said with a wave of his wand, and Sam knew that, whatever Harry was about to say, Phil wouldn't be able to hear it. Sighing, Sam prepared himself for the worst. It had been too much to hope that Harry would be distracted enough to let what he witnessed go unexplained.  
  
To Sam's surprise though, Harry's face wasn't full of anger or suspicion, but concern. It made Sam think that there might be a chance to at least prevent the situation from becoming worse.  
  
"Sam..." Harry started, but Sam spoke over him.  
  
"You can't tell Dean."  
  
Harry paused, looking at Sam in confusion. "Sam? D-"  
  
"Dean...he doesn't like it when I...I told him I wouldn't.... _please,_ " Sam said, and didn't care how desperate he sounded. Things between him and Dean were bad enough as it was; he didn't need to add more fuel to the fire.  
  
"Ok, ok," Harry said, "but only if you answer one question."  
  
Sam winced, "What?"  
  
"Sam, are you..." Harry paused, wincing at whatever he had intended to say, and then started again. "What are you... _besides_  human?"  
  
Sam felt himself pale.  
  
"What makes you- " Sam started in mock confusion.  
  
"Sam," Harry said simply, but Sam could recognize that tone anywhere.  
  
"Do you think Dean heard what was going on out here?" Sam asked, looking at the thick wooden door beside them instead of Harry's green eyes. "Maybe it doesn't matter if you tell him or not."  
  
"The door is sound proof. We could have a marching band out here and they wouldn't know," Harry replied. "Answer the question, Sam. Because what I'm thinking doesn't make sense." Sam paused at that, turning his attention back to Harry.  
  
"What are you thinking?" Sam asked softly, bracing himself for the words he hated -  _freak, monster..._  
  
"Demons don't perform exorcisms," Harry said in response, "yet, your reaction to magic...I didn't understand it before, but I didn't have anything to really compare it to; at least, I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes. In the Chamber, you made the magic unpredictable, hard to control...the Patronus spell is far more complicated than the stunners that the demon in Phil was trying to throw at us. The only thing that can go wrong with them is they hit too hard and kill, or they don't hit at all. The Patronus charm, well, a demon has never tried to cast one of those before, but I'd imagine that they might do something like-"  
  
"Like try to turn their brother into a Patronus?" Sam finished for him quietly.  
  
"Something like that, yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "Sam, I know you're human, but..."  
  
Sam sighed heavily, glancing at the wooden door and then back to Harry again. Then he glanced down to Phil, who seemed to be directing a scrubbing brush across the stone floor and muttering about being an Auror, not a janitor.  
  
"When I was six months old, a demon broke into my nursery," Sam began quietly; even knowing Phil couldn't hear and that the door was sound proof, Sam couldn't bring himself to say the words too loudly. "My mother...before she could stop him, he fed me his blood. I have these abilities..." Sam trailed off, hoping that Harry wouldn't ask anything more.  
  
"The fire that killed your mother..." Harry let the question hang.  
  
"The demon killed my mother," Sam answered, a little surprised with what question Harry had chosen to ask first.  
  
"And your girlfriend in college?" Harry asked further.  
  
"Her too," Sam replied.  
  
"And Dean?" Harry continued. Sam furrowed his brow and then realized the connection Harry was drawing.  
  
"Different demon," Sam replied. "Dean killed the one who got Mom and Jess...and Dad. It was Lilith that held Dean's contract."  
  
"I see," was all Harry said. Sam wished Harry would give him some indication of what he was thinking, some indication of whether or not Sam had just lost an ally.  
  
"I'm not evil," Sam said quickly. "I just have...this...inside me." Sam cringed inwardly at how pathetic he sounded. Sam found himself looking back at the wooden door, avoiding Harry's eyes again.   
  
"Sam," Harry said, "I understand."  
  
Sam's attention immediately whipped back to Harry - who was actually smiling.  
  
"Trust me, I  _understand,_ " Harry repeated.  
  
"Um, thanks," Sam finally said, suspicious that it had been that easy.  
  
"Listen, we really have to get back to Dean and Draco, but after we're done here, there's something I need to talk to you about." Harry said.  
  
"Ok," Sam said, still not quite sure what was going on.  
  
"Great," Harry replied.  
  
* *  
  
Harry could hear Sam explaining to Dean what had happened in the foyer. The brothers still stood by the door, while Harry had immediately gone over to see what Draco had found. Whatever it was, it had caused Draco to give Harry a rather significant look as soon as no one else had been looking.  
  
"...finally Harry was able to stop him with that spell he used on you earlier, and I was able to exorcise him." Sam was saying.  
  
"With the Latin?" Dean interrupted, and Harry risked a sideways glance over to the brothers.  
  
"Yeah, with the Latin," Sam said with a small glare. Harry couldn't see Dean's face well enough to tell if he bought the lie. There was a significant pause, but Harry couldn't tell what it meant. He could just see Sam continue to glare at his brother.  
  
"Did you find out how many there were?" Dean finally asked.  
  
"No," Sam said with disappointment, "but I think it's safe to say that the security guard has been compromised."  
  
Harry turned his attention back to the reports in front of him, scanning the information as quickly as he could. Draco hovered next to him, passing him more papers or using a long pale finger to point out particularly interesting passages in the files. They outlined a lot more than the Auror report did, that was for sure.  
  
"Start making copies," Harry told Draco.  
  
"Ok, just..." Malfoy said, "you might be interested in this one." Draco handed him another piece of parchment. Harry started to scan it and then stopped and want back to carefully read from the beginning. Beside him, Draco started making duplicates of everything. He glanced over at the Winchesters to find them rummaging through their duffle bag and re-arming themselves - with flasks of water.  _Whatever keeps them busy_ , Harry thought.  
  
"Copy this page too, but give the copy to me," Harry said, handing the parchment back to Malfoy.  
  
"I'm not your secretary, Potter," Malfoy muttered, but copies the page nevertheless. Harry folded it and tucked it into his pocket. He then started stacking the copied into their own file.  
  
"You going to let us see what has you two all worked up, or do I have to change my mind about not shooting anyone?" Dean's voice suddenly said from behind them. Harry felt Malfoy freeze, but he knew that Dean was just joking about that last part...he hoped.  
  
"We're making a copy, so we can all read it somewhere a little safer," Harry replied. "Are you guys ready? Because I think getting out of here is going to be a bit different than coming in."  
  
"Yeah, we figure they probably have that security kid, and who knows who else," Dean answered. "It'd be pointless to drink that potion again, circumstances have changed - if Roger didn't suspect anything before, he's going to after Harry Potter exorcises a demon out of him."  
  
Harry turned to face the Winchesters, shoving the copies of the reports into his shoulder bag. He was thankful that for the moment Dean was too distracted by the presence of demons to worry about the contents of the report.  
  
"Ok, you two will take point on this one," Harry ordered, "since you're the experts. Phil, Malfoy, and I will be your backup."  
  
"Potter, you are  _not_  volunteering me to fight demons," Malfoy practically hissed at him. Harry sighed.  
  
"Malfoy, I'm going to need your help afterwards," Harry said softly. "You're a much better Obliviator than I am."  
  
"Well, that might be true," Malfoy said, a hint of his usual condescension slipping back into his voice, "but it's only polite to ask first, before volunteering people for battle."   
  
Harry pursed his lips and did his best not to smile.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Harry began in an affected voice, "if it isn't too much trouble, would you be so kind as to assist me, and the brothers Winchester, in exorcising some demons and then obliviating the memories of whomever they've possessed?"  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well there's no need to be ridiculous about it, Potter," he said. Harry just raised his eyebrows in response. Malfoy sighed and continued, "Yes, I will help you."  
  
"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said.  
  
"We good to go?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah, just...uh," Harry started, not sure how to pull this off. "I just have one more thing to do in this place. Let's go to the foyer and you two can brief Phil and Malfoy on demons, while I run one more errand."  
  
"What else do you have to do?" Sam asked, as they all exited the library.  
  
"I just need to have a look at something," Harry replied vaguely, as Malfoy directed the stairs to adjust. Phil was waiting for them by the exit, having successfully cleaned and repaired the room. "Malfoy, could you...?"   
  
Malfoy waved his wand again and the stairs adjusted further. Now there was a staircase leading the Winchesters and Malfoy down to the foyer, and another staircase leading Harry to a corridor on the third floor. Harry took off at a sprint, not having to turn around to know that Sam's concerned eyes were still on him.  
  
He jogged through the short corridor until he came to another large wooden door. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed it open, revealing the seemingly never-ending shelves of pale glittering globes: The Hall of Prophecy. Harry took out the piece of parchment from his pocket and smoothed out the creases to re-read the subject heading on the report:  
  
_Winchester: Row 42, Shelf 66, Entry 4_  
  
Over his head, there was an unnoticed fluttering of wings.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry stood in front of Entry 4, Shelf 66, in Row 42 of the Hall of Prophecy and stared at the small glimmering glass ball in front of him. The simple label in front of it read: " _Winchester, Sam and Dean. August 18th, 2008._ " In truth, he didn't really know why he had come here. He couldn't pick up the prophecy without going mad and he knew full well that staring at it wasn't going to reveal any of the words contained within. Only the people named in the prophecy could take it from the shelf. The only information he had was on the piece of paper already in his hand, and he could read that anywhere, at any time. Furthermore, Harry wasn't even sure why he hadn't just brought the Winchesters in here so that they could listen to the prophecy - or why he hadn't told them about the prophecy...why he really didn't want to tell them about the prophecy - ok, maybe he did know why, but that didn't explain why he felt the need to stand there and stare at it.   
  
"You know you cannot touch it," a deep voice suddenly said from beside him. Harry jumped, his wand flying into his hand as he turned. There, giving him an unblinking stare, was a man in a trenchcoat.  
  
"I could go get them," Harry replied, mind reeling. The man gave off an aura of power, yet Harry was certain he wasn't a wizard. A demon, perhaps, but why talk rather than attack? To throw Harry off guard? Harry considered. "Is that what that demon was after? This prophecy?"  
  
"No, the demons do not know of this prophecy," the man replied.  _Not a demon, then_ , Harry thought. Yet, not a wizard - and no Muggle could have found their way here.   
  
"Are you...?" Harry began, trying to figure out how exactly to ask, "...Cas?"  
  
"Castiel," the angel replied slowly, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "Dean has a... fondness... for nicknames."  
  
"Sorry," Harry muttered, suddenly unsure of how he should continue. He had talked to Centaurs, Giants, and Merfolk, but never Angels. "I could go get Dean."  
  
"But you won't," Castiel responded enigmatically. Harry frowned. Of course he would get Dean if the angel wanted him to; why wouldn't he? But then, why hadn't Castiel just appeared to Dean? Harry stared at Castiel in confusion, watching the glimmering light from the prophecies reflecting in his blue eyes.  _The prophecies_ . Harry suddenly remembered where he was. He glanced down at the slightly crinkled paper in his hand.  
  
"What happened to the Seer?" Harry asked, ignoring the central unasked question.  
  
"Not all Seers have the privilege of forgetting their predictions," Castiel stated. "He killed himself."  
  
Harry swallowed against the dread welling up inside him. He glanced back down at the page in his hands.  
  
"And this was all that the witnesses could recall?" he asked, knowing the answer already.  
  
"Yes, the Seer attempted to erase their memories as an act of compassion," Castiel answered.  
  
"And you don't want Dean to know?" Harry asked, looking up from the paper and into the angel's eyes. Harry was surprised to see Castiel's expressionless mask falter, if only for a brief moment.   
  
"What I want is irrelevant," Castiel finally answered.  
  
"I don't understand," Harry muttered. What was Castiel doing here, if not warning Harry away from the prophecy?  
  
"Did knowing your prophecy aid you?" Castiel asked instead of trying to explain himself.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied. "I knew that I was the one that had to kill Voldemort."  
  
"So, if you had not heard the prophecy, you would not have attempted to defeat Tom Riddle?" Castiel asked further.  
  
"Of course I would have," Harry replied without hesitation.  
  
"So, knowledge of the prophecy changed nothing," Castiel concluded. Harry's jaw dropped slightly, and he tried a few aborted sentences that never made it past his lips, before realizing that he couldn't really argue against that. Merlin, sometimes he really wished Hermione was around -  _she_  could probably argue with angels and win.  
  
"But this is different," Harry finally said. "My prophecy wasn't like this!" He tapped the piece of paper in emphasis.  
  
"You would not have preferred your prophecy to say something else? You were content with your role in the Second Wizarding War?" Castiel asked further.  
  
"What? No. I mean..." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Merlin, he felt like crying. He glanced around the room, then laughed inwardly, realizing he was hoping for divine intervention to help him understand divine intervention. When his eyes finally settled back on Castiel, he found the angel studying him in open curiosity.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised when Castiel seemed to catch himself and school his expression.  
  
"It is nothing. I just..." Castiel began. Harry practically held his breath, as he realized that the angel was actually having difficulty putting something into words. "...you have green eyes."   
  
Harry didn't know what he had expected, but he knew that wasn't it.  
  
"Is that important?" Harry asked.  
  
"No," Castiel said, and Harry could have sworn the angel was embarrassed. "It is just an observation."  
  
"Ok..." Harry replied. This truly was a bizarre experience.  
  
"They are waiting for you," Castiel said. Harry wondered what that had to do with the colour of his eyes, and then realized that Castiel had returned to the original topic of conversation.   
  
"What gives me the right to keep this from them?" Harry asked aloud, staring down at the paper, unsure whether he was arguing against Castiel or asking the angel to validate a decision Harry had already made.  
  
Castiel didn't answer.  
  
"Lone wolves die, Castiel," Harry said.  
  
Castiel didn't answer.  
  
Harry looked up to find himself alone.  
  
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered to the empty air.   
  
He thought of the memories he had seen. The ones they had used - them together. Dean's was the only one that included their father, but both had been surrounded with the feeling of being home. Dean pressed against a car window pane, Sam pressed against his side, his father in the driver's seat, and all that Harry had felt through Dean were the feelings of love and 'home'. Sam's memory of Dean holding him, Dean holding him and all around them the room kept shifting, as though Sam couldn't really remember the room they had been in, or more likely, that they had been in several, but the one thing Harry recognized was that it was always a crappy motel room, or occasionally a rustic cabin. The only thing in the memory that had never changed was Dean, strong and always there. Harry knew that all those two had were each other.  
  
Harry re-read the words on the page, though he already had them memorized. Carefully, he folded the paper and placed it in his shoulder bag.  
  
 _Witness reports recount only the first lines with any clarity:  
  
Two brothers, torn apart by Heaven and Hell -   
The Alpha and the Omega of the End._  
  
*  
  
Dean had to admit that the things these wizards could do were useful. He and Sam had given Phil and Malfoy the rundown on demons, and Malfoy had immediately begun to conjure water out of thin air for Sam to bless.   
  
It was odd not to have Harry there. Dean hadn't realized how much Harry had served as a sort of buffer this whole time. Well, at least Dean had spoken to Malfoy on his own before - Draco? what kind of a name was that anyway? Weird wizards, it was like his parents had wanted him to be a stereotype.  
  
It didn't look like Phil was afraid of Dean or Sam, like Draco had been - maybe still was. Phil listened with rapt attention, maybe still a little shaken up from having been possessed. Dean was still a little wary of the man. Unlike Malfoy, Phil knew that Sam was different. Though, Dean reminded himself, Malfoy had read their file and Dean still didn't know what was in there.  
  
Dean studied Malfoy for a long moment while Sam was showing him and Phil what a devil's trap looked like. The blond wizard looked nervous, but that was probably due to the demons. He wasn't looking at Sam in suspicion or curiosity; if anything, there was a little more respect in his gaze now.   
  
Still, there was a tightness to the air whenever Phil or Malfoy spoke. At first, Dean wondered if it was due to the fact that Harry had left Dean and Sam in charge, and wizards didn't like to answer to regular humans, but then Dean realized that Phil and Malfoy never looked at each other. The animosity in the room wasn't between the wizards and the hunters, but between the wizards themselves.  
  
"...of course, we probably won't have time to draw any devil's traps, but you should know about them, anyway, just in case..." Sam was saying. Dean knew that Sam was just trying to fill up the time before Harry got back, so that the civilians didn't have time to get nervous. It was a trick Sam had learnt when he was still a teenager, and one that Dean realized their Dad really could have used over the years - Dean knew how nervous people could get in his father's presence. He had always tried to soften his Dad's edges by smiling and trying to lighten the mood, and it had worked pretty well. Sam's strategy, though, seemed to work better - he would actually teach the people stuff, keep talking to them, explaining things whenever it was possible to explain things. All the silence was filled up with Sam's voice, and no one had time to be nervous, because they were too busy listening.  
  
"I have a spell that could make one almost instantly," Malfoy interrupted.  
  
"Really?" Dean asked, intrigued.  
  
"Yes, it's actually quite simple. School children can do it," Malfoy replied, then glanced down at the diagram of the devil's trap that Sam held, and waved his wand at the floor beside them. Sure enough, black inky lines began to stretch themselves into the familiar form of the pentagram and, after only a few seconds, there was a complete devil's trap where nothing had been before.  
  
"That's awesome!" Dean said, smiling. Malfoy gave him a smug grin.  
  
"In the wizarding world, Winchester, that's the equivalent of a simple parlour trick," Malfoy replied. "I could show you far more impressive things than that."  
  
"...'bly dark magic," Dean suddenly heard Phil mutter angrily. Malfoy's grin faded and Dean knew he had heard it too.  
  
"Can you and Harry do this too?" Dean asked Phil tersely, pointing at Malfoy's devil's trap, deciding the best way to deal with animosity between the wizards was to try to ignore it for now.  
  
"Yes, of course," Phil answered simply.  
  
"Ok, change of plans then," Dean stated. "How's your Latin?"  
  
"Excellent," and "Most incantations are based on the Latin..." Malfoy and Phil answered, respectively, at the same time.  
  
"Ok," Dean said. "If Roger's the only one up there and he's possessed, we go with Plan A. If there is more than one demon, then we'll split into two groups. Harry and Malfoy with me, and Phil with Sam. One person on each team will be in charge of the devil's trap, the other in charge of reading or, in Sam's case, reciting the exorcism. Do you guys have any paper? I can make you copies of the devil's trap diagram to work from."  
  
"No need," Malfoy stated. "I can make copies." He took the diagram and laid it on the floor, waving his wand wordlessly at it. A second identical diagram appeared beside it. Then he repeated the process once more. Dean handed him the page with the exorcism so he could do the same to it.  
  
"How come you guys only have to say incantations some of the time?" Sam asked from beside him.  
  
"When you do certain spells a lot, especially relatively simple ones, you don't have to say the words," Malfoy answered. "It's like any task - the more you do it, the easier it becomes - sometimes you don't even need to use a wand."  
  
"Is that true for the Unforgivables as well?" Phil asked in a low tone.   
  
"I assure you, I wouldn't know," Malfoy replied in a tight voice. Dean could tell Sam was about to ask what an Unforgivable was, and he really didn't think that was a good idea. He needed to think of something to distract everyone with; the last thing they needed was for Phil and Malfoy to get into a fight before they even found out how many demons were waiting for them.  
  
"As a matter of fact, Phil, it  _is_  true of the Unforgivables," Harry's voice suddenly said from the staircase above them. "It's also true that Draco wouldn't know. I have far more experience with them than he has. Also, you should be glad we're doing something illegal or I would be suspending you just now for not being able to get along with your teammates."   
  
Dean watched as Phil paled, but he didn't reply. Malfoy looked like he was trying to decide whether he should be happy, concerned, or angry. Sam still looked like he wanted to ask what an Unforgiveable was, and Dean still thought that wouldn't be a very good thing to ask right now.  
  
"Little help here, Malfoy?" Harry said. "The stairs seem to have reset themselves."  
  
Malfoy waved his wand silently in Harry's general direction and the stairs slid into a path, which Harry quickly jogged down even as the stairs in front of him were still shifting into place. Once he was able to actually reach them, Harry clapped a hand to Phil's shoulder, and spoke in a less authoritarian voice.  
  
"Listen, I know you've had a rough night, and I know you think I'm slightly crazy and I'm going to get you fired, and I know that you think Malfoy is a git," Harry said, and Dean glanced over at Malfoy to see him roll his eyes and sigh. " _But_ ," Harry continued, "I also know that while you were here in America dealing with your scary cases of espionage and bribery, there were those of us in Britain who were living with monsters. So, maybe you should show a little respect."  
  
Harry's voice had grown steadily harder while he spoke, until in the end, Dean felt like he had just watched his father give someone a dressing-down. He glanced at Sam and could tell he was thinking the exact same thing. Hell, Sammy would know; their Dad had taken him down a peg or two in the past. Malfoy was staring at the floor, looking as though he would like it to swallow him.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Phil said. Harry nudged him with an elbow. "And, uh, my apologies to Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"No problem," Harry replied with a smile. "I understand. I once swore vengeance on a man who had spent six years doing his best to keep me alive."  
  
Draco chuckled quietly at that. Dean admired Harry's ability to chastise a man fifteen years his senior, and also his ability to immediately diffuse a situation.  
  
"So, fill me in on the plan," Harry said. "Why's Draco standing on a devil's trap?"  
  
They had all forgotten about the devil's trap that Draco had painted on the floor - including Draco it seemed, who hastily erased it. Dean and Sam launched into a brief rundown of the plan to Harry. It had several scenerios, given that they didn't know what was waiting for them upstairs.  
  
Once Harry was caught up, Dean made sure everyone was armed with holy water, a copy of the devil's trap diagram and the exorcism. He unsheathed the demon-knife, just in case, but assured Harry that it'd only be used as a last resort. Then they passed out the amulets.  
  
"What are these?" Draco asked, examining the engraving.  
  
"They'll protect you from being possessed," Dean answered.  
  
"Would've been nice to have one of these a little earlier," Phil said. Sam winced in sympathy.   
  
"Well, according to you guys, demons don't like possessing wizards," Dean answered. "Plus, up until that one possessed you, we didn't have confirmation that demons were even involved."  
  
"Don't you guys need amulets too?" Harry asked. "Or does that gold one you're wearing do the same thing."   
  
"No, and no," Dean answered. "We got the engraving tattooed on our chests, so we only have to worry if we get skinned."  
  
"I take it you come across demons a lot," Draco asked.  
  
"Enough, yeah," Dean replied, "Plus, it's not much fun having some demon shoot you while it's wearing your brother."  
  
"Fuckin' Meg," Sam muttered. Dean grinned at Draco.  
  
"Sammy here had a chick inside him for over a week," Dean explained. "Sad thing is, if she hadn't been a demon, I doubt anyone would have noticed."  
  
"You are such a jerk," Sam replied. "Do you want me to tell them about the cat? Because I will, Dean."  
  
"You..." Dean started, but then figured Sam might actually mean it. So, instead he threw the duffle bag to Sam and said, "Who's ready to go kick some demon ass?"   
  
Sam hoisted their duffle onto his shoulder and gave Dean a victorious grin. Dean gave the wizards a smile that seemed to put them on edge rather than at ease.  
  
"What about the paintings?" Dean asked once they were in the elevator.  
  
"Leave them to me," Harry replied.  
  
When the doors opened, Harry motioned for them to wait, while he strode out purposefully. He raised his wand and spoke another Latin-sounding incantation. Dean couldn't see what was happening from inside the elevator but, whatever it was, Harry seemed pleased with himself. He beckoned them forward.   
  
Upon entering the hallway, Dean had to admit to himself that magic was pretty damn cool. Grey smoke fell from the tops of the walls, like slow waterfalls, covering the paintings completely. Once the smoke reached the floor, it spilled out into the hall for only an instant, before vanishing into nothingness. The sconces lining the walls stuck out from the smoke, parting the shifting grey briefly, and highlighting the smoke and the hallway in blue flickering flames.  
  
"If they wake, they'll be suspicious," Draco's voice came from behind Dean.  
  
"But they can't hear or see who we are, and that's the important part," Harry replied, and then took off towards the door at the end of the hall.  
  
Once they were all at the end of the hall, Dean and Sam pushed Malfoy and Phil into the corners by the door, where they would be out of the line of sight of anyone in the entrance hall once the door was open. They gave Harry a quick nod.  
  
Harry quickly opened the door enough for him to stick his head into the entrance hall to have a look, then suddenly he was dropping to the floor, as a red flash of light splintered the wood where his head had just been. Harry's hand had never left the door handle and he used it to snap the door closed.  
  
"Definitely not Roger," Harry muttered.


	18. Chapter 18

"How many?" Sam asked.  
  
"Roger, two others," Harry answered.  
  
"Sam - you and Phil get Roger. You two," Dean motioned to Harry and Draco, "stick with the plan."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said.  
  
"Dean..." Sam spoke softly. It would make much more sense for Sam to take on two demons while Dean only took on one.  
  
"Sam," Dean said, and the ' _don't you dare argue with me on this_ ' was clear. Sam glared back, but then sighed and gave Dean a nod. Dean turned back to Harry and Malfoy and continued, "I'll try to draw their attention away from you. It'll help you if let them underestimate you, so act scared and useless or something."  
  
Harry looked a little concerned, and Malfoy looked as though he wanted to vomit.   
  
"Good job, man!" Dean said, impressed. "That's perfect."  
  
"Stay behind me," Sam told Phil. Sam knew the demon couldn't throw him, and if he could block Phil from being thrown, then this could go very smoothly. So smoothly, Sam hoped they could take care of Roger and the other two demons before anyone got hurt.   
  
It'd be better if Sam didn't have to use the Latin, but unfortunately he had no choice. If it'd had just been him and Dean, he might have considered disobeying Dean's order not to use his abilities, but he couldn't let the wizards see how different he was. Harry knew, and had been remarkably understanding, but Malfoy worked for the Department of Mysteries. Sure, Malfoy worked in Britain and it was the American Department that had the interest in Sam, but he couldn't risk it. It was obvious that Phil didn't trust Malfoy, and Sam hadn't had an opportunity to figure out why that was. Harry seemed to trust him, yet Harry had also insisted before that Malfoy wasn't a friend of his. There were too many variables, so Sam knew he had no choice but to follow Dean's orders to only use the Latin.  
  
With a nod to Dean, Sam flung open the door and ran towards Roger, while Dean ran full tilt, already flinging holy water, at the other two demons. Roger was still behind the security desk, but standing now. Sam flung a spray of holy water at him. The demon seemed to attempt some sort of deflection spell, but it amounted to nothing and the water singed and steamed while Roger flinched and snarled, eyes turning black in anger.  
  
"A bit old fashioned for you, Winchester," Roger growled, though it was hardly menacing seeing as how the vocal chords the demon was working with were still that of a boy in his early twenties. Sam didn't bother to respond and simply flung another stream of holy water. Sure enough, the demon raised a hand as if to throw him, but couldn't. Phil was still fully blocked by Sam's tall frame, and Sam was thankful that so far the plan had worked. He already saw the thick black lines appearing on floor behind the demon, as Phil muttered incantations behind him.  
  
*  
  
Harry ran out behind Dean, covering Draco, who was the only one among them without some sort of combat training. Of course, Harry knew Draco could handle himself in a duel, but this was different; even Harry was out of his element with this enemy.  
  
Dean ran towards the two demons. One held a wand, the other didn't. A spray of holy water from the bottle Dean carried hit both, and Harry watched their eyes change as they flinched in pain.   
  
" _Avada_ -" the demon with the wand said, aiming directly at Dean.   
  
"DOWN!" Harry yelled, as his heart seized at the words.  
  
"- _Kadavra_ " the demon finished, as the blot of green light hit the open air where Dean had been a half-second earlier. Dean gave Harry a concerned glance from the floor, but in the next second he was up and throwing himself towards the demons again with the holy water. Harry could only guess the expression Dean must have seen on his face. Harry shook himself mentally and focused on the task Dean had assigned him, glancing down briefly at the paper clutched tightly in his hand. If the demons were using the killing curse, Dean needed Harry to do this as fast as possible.  
  
"You idiot!" Harry heard the wandless demon say. "You could have hit the wizard!"  
  
"Trying to put Winchester back in his _place_. I bet he misses it - the way they screamed," the armed demon replied.   
  
Dean chose that moment to throw all his remaining holy water on both demons, while moving swiftly to the left, flanking the demons between him and Harry.  
  
"Stop pussyfooting around and fight!" the demon with the wand snarled. "Afraid of a little magic? Afraid to come close enough to use the knife?"  
  
"I'm not afraid of anything, you son of a bitch," Dean replied, surging forward so abruptly the demon took an instinctive step backwards.  
  
" _Avada_ -" The demon raised the wand again, now that Dean was practically at point blank range.  
  
" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry cried, and the demon's wand flew towards Harry.  
  
The plan had worked, as both demons glanced at Harry, seemingly only then remembering that Dean wasn't their only opponent.  
  
"He wasn't fighting you," Harry said with a smile, "he was herding you."  
   
Harry was sure that the smile on Dean's face mirrored his own, as the demons both looked down simultaneously to discover Harry's perfectly drawn devil's trap under their feet.  
  
"Sam?" Dean asked, turning to check on his brother.  
  
"All set here, Dean," Sam replied, while glaring coldly at Roger.  
  
Dean smiled and looked around the room, and Harry watched his smile falter and a look of concern replace it.   
  
"Malfoy?" Dean called, "Dra-"  
  
Suddenly, Draco appeared directly beside Dean, a disillusionment charm unraveling from the head down.  
  
"Here," Draco said, calmly, smiling slightly as Dean jumped.   
  
"Read," Dean said, giving a Draco a small annoyed glare.  
  
Draco began to read the exorcism in a clear crisp voice; even Harry had to admit that his pronunciation was remarkable.  
  
The demons looked frantic, eyeing the devil's traps, and the exits, then falling to their knees.   
  
"Still your father's dog, Dean," the wandless demon started to say through gritted teeth. Harry watched Draco's eyes slide momentarily off the Latin and give Dean a brief wide-eyed glance.  
  
"Read faster," Dean said, and Draco's eyes darted back to the page, as he continued at a quicker pace.  
  
"That's all you ever were, an obedient dog," the demon continued. "You've just changed masters. I wonder what your daddy thinks of you now, after what you've done."   
  
"Dean, shouldn't we interrogate them?" Sam's voice piped up from across the room. Draco's Latin slowed momentarily.  
  
"Just keep reading," Dean said, as he shook his head. "I've had enough of these bastards to last a lifetime." Dean laughed bitterly and turned away from them. He began picking up the discarded empty water bottles that ringed the devil's trap.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, over the top of Draco's crisp voice.  
  
Dean leveled a glare at Sam, just as Draco neared the end of the exorcism. The black smoke escaped the bodies in front of them in horrifying screams, then sank to coals and returned to hell. The bodies slumped. It seemed that Roger was unconscious, but the two strangers quickly opened their eyes and began to look around in fear.  
  
"Phil, you look after Roger. The rest with me," Harry commanded, and then moved towards the two former vessels. Dean was already there, a hand on the arm of one of them.  
  
"Hey, you alright?" Dean asked kindly. "We have to get out of here."  
  
The man seemed dazed, but nodded and stood. Harry moved to help the other, and soon they were moving up the stairs and out of the American Ministry, leaving Phil behind to alter Roger's memories.  
  
"Sit down for a moment," Harry said, and directed the two strangers to a park bench.   
  
"What happened? I don't understand...I couldn't...there was..." one of them said.  
  
"My friend here is going to answer all your questions, alright?" Harry said calmly, and pointed to Draco. He motioned for Sam and Dean to step off to the side with him. Malfoy moved in front of the two strangers and Stupefied them both with one spell.  
  
"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"What?" Draco replied, then shrugged. "It's easier this way."  
  
"Fine," Harry sighed, passing Malfoy the confiscated wand so that he could return it when he was done.  
  
He moved Sam and Dean a little bit away from where Malfoy worked, not wanting their voices to interfere with the memory charms.  
  
"We could have found out what they were after," Sam was saying in a hushed tone. "We need to know if they're connected with the Dementors, and whether they're working for Lilith, and what the hell they're trying to do."  
  
"We already know they're connected with the Dementors," Dean replied harshly. "We also know what they want. The one in Phil already told us all we need to know."  
  
Sam's mouth snapped shut on whatever he had planned to say, and Dean took it as an opportunity to continue.  
  
"We know that the Dementors were brought over by the demons in a plan to put us out of commission while Harry was in the country or maybe permanently," Dean said, then smiled. "Either way, their stupid plan totally backfired on them."  
  
"Right," Sam said, "but we don't know why..."  
  
"Yes, we do," Dean continued. "Obviously, they want Harry for some reason. Not only that, but they want him alive, which is an advantage for us."  
  
"I'd say it was an advantage for me too," Harry said. "I hate it when people want me dead."  
  
Dean smiled, but Sam still looked a little angry.  
  
"But we don't know  _why_  they want him," Sam pointed out.  
  
"I think it's safe to say that they don't want to invite him over for tea and crumpets," Dean deadpanned.  
  
"But if we knew  _why_ , we would be one step ahead of them. We would know what to do," Sam said.  
  
"We  _are_  a step ahead of them, Sam," Dean said, now sounding just as exasperated as Sam. "We know they want Harry, and we know they want him alive, so all we have to do is keep Harry safe and we win. Doesn't matter if we know what the plan is or not, we'll still ruin it."  
  
"How do you know they want me alive?" Harry asked, because, quite frankly, it was starting to really concern him that demons wanted him at all.  
  
"When he shot that spell at me," Dean explained. "First,  _you_  freaked out, so I'm guessing it probably could have killed me. Then the other demon said that he was an idiot and could have hit 'the wizard'. Demons sure as hell know that I'm not a wizard, so they couldn't have been concerned about offing me, and they couldn't even see Draco, and Phil was way across the room."  
  
"What was the spell? The red one?" Sam asked. "It hurts a little, but it doesn't kill you."  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "It was green," then he laughed. "Dude, it actually sounded like he said 'Abrakadabra'."  
  
"It's the killing curse," Draco's voice spoke up from behind Harry. "It would have killed you instantly."  
  
The laugh died on Dean's lips, but then he just shrugged.  
  
"Well, that explains the look on Harry's face then, and it also means that I'm right," Dean said. Sam was still staring at Draco, as though maybe the killing curse  _had_  hit Dean. Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the two vessels had been sitting on the bench. One of them was wandering away down the path, and the other was stretched out on the bench, seemingly asleep.  
  
"The one without a wand was some poor Muggle," Draco explained, following Harry's gaze. "I told him there had been an attempted mugging, that he'd been hit on the head, but I had scared off his attacker. The other was another security guard for the Ministry. He'll remember that he got a little sleepy during his patrol and sat down for a minute. When he wakes up in about twenty minutes, he'll assume that he fell asleep. He won't ever tell anyone, for fear of losing his job."  
  
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Malfoy, I owe you one."   
  
Malfoy practically growled, "No, you don't."  
  
"You can kill people instantly?" Sam asked suddenly, and Harry winced at the tone.  
  
"We can, but we don't," Malfoy replied coldly. "It's an Unforgivable. Plus, judging by your armory, you and your brother are quite capable of killing people instantly too, so I wouldn't judge."  
  
Harry watched as comprehension suddenly dawned on Dean's face.  
  
"So, back inside, before the fight..." Dean began. "Phil was accusing you of killing people?"  
  
Draco bit his lip, and Harry decided to answer for him.  
  
"There are three Unforgivables. Phil was out of line, but he wasn't necessarily accusing Malfoy of being a murderer."  
  
"What are the other ones?" Sam asked.  
  
"Um, there's the Imperius curse," Harry answered. "It forces people to do whatever you tell them. And then there's the Cruciatus curse. It's a torture curse, inflicting unimaginable pain on the victim, but leaving no wounds."  
  
"I only ever attempted the Cruciatus during the War," Draco offered, "but I was never very good at it. The Dar- uh, Voldemort - used to just laugh at my attempts."  
  
"You have to mean it. Actually, casting the Cruciatus is quite the rush when you get it right," Harry said, before his brain could catch up with his mouth, and then he realized what he had just admitted. "Shit, I..."  
  
Draco was looking at him with wide eyes. Dean was blank-faced, but pale, and Sam...Sam was giving him a look that seemed to say,  _Shut-the-hell-up, you idiot_ , before darting a glance towards his brother.  
  
"I only did it once," Harry finished, then added softly, "successfully."   
  
Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "All's fair in love and war, or something like that..."  
  
"The point, I was trying to make," Draco suddenly said, voice drawling more than usual, "before that conversation became so awkward," he leveled an exaggerated glare at Harry, "was that Dean is quite correct in his assessment that the demon had no qualms about killing him, yet did not want to kill Harry; which indicates that it is important Harry stay alive in order for their plans to come to fruition."  
  
"Right, so..." Dean said, shooting a grateful look at Malfoy, "all we have to do is keep Harry safe, and we're good."  
  
"We still don't know why the Dementors are here," Sam said.  
  
"I believe they are here for the sole reason of drawing Harry to this continent," Malfoy said. "It's well known in the Wizarding World that Harry's abilities with the Patronus charm are more advanced than any living wizard. If any country were to have problems with Dementors, Harry would be the top of the list of people to call in for help - either to confront the Dementors himself, or train others to do so."  
  
"Hm," Harry said, "makes sense. Maybe all I have to do is go back to Britain then, if the Dementors are only here because of me."  
  
"No," Dean said immediately, "if the Dementors didn't work, they would only step up their game.You're better off here where we can keep an eye on you."  
  
"Lucky you, Potter," Draco drawled. "Looks like you get an extended vacation with your new friends. Do try not to reveal _all_  the secrets of the Wizarding World to them, would you?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"And on that note," Draco continued, "as much as I'd love to stick around and possibly get killed by demons, I'm going home."   
  
"Wait, but, you could help us read the file," Harry said. "We still need to know why the Department of Mysteries wants Sam and Dean."  
  
"You already know why," Draco replied, staring intently at Harry.  
  
"What? Why?" Sam asked. Draco turned to him.  
  
"They just want to interview you," Draco said. "I've read your file. You two have had an... interesting... life. Whatever you are involved in now, it's big enough to concern both our worlds, and you two are somehow in the middle of it. The department wants to ask you about it, as you'd be far more co-operative than demons would be."  
  
"An interview...that's it?" Dean asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.  
  
"To begin with." Draco fidgeted nervously. "But..." He glanced at Harry and then back at Dean. "...it might be for the best if you didn't let them. They'd want to take control. Whatever you are involved with, they wouldn't trust you with it. Maybe they shouldn't, I don't know...you're Muggles and Hunters, so you're both stupid and dangerous." Malfoy shrugged at their raised eyebrows. "It's what they'll believe, in any event. I'm just trying to warn you."  
  
"They sounds like the Feds," Dean smiled. "Think they have it all figured out, when they know absolutely nothing."  
  
"Oh, they know plenty," Draco replied, "but you probably have enough to worry about right now. Plus, no matter what they think they can do by controlling you, I have a feeling it'd be pointless."  
  
Draco leveled another significant look towards Harry, and Harry knew that he was thinking about the prophecy, about how Voldemort had tried to prevent a prophecy before and only succeeded in ensuring that it would happen. The Department would get the Winchesters to listen to the prophecy, and then possibly they would try to interfere with it. It would indeed be pointless, and would only succeed in frustrating the Winchesters, possibly turning them against the Wizarding World. Harry mustn't forget that they were Hunters, regardless of how nice they had been to him so far.  
  
Sam and Dean both nodded, agreeing with Draco. Harry found himself nodding too.   
  
"Now, I meant what I said about going home," Draco said. "It's almost breakfast in Britain and Astoria will wonder where I am."  
  
"Right," Harry said, checking his watch. "Thanks again, Malfoy."  
  
"Uh, Har- Potter?" Draco said, suddenly tentative. "Before I go, I was wondering if I could have a word about my son."  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. "Scorpius, right?"  
  
"Yes, that's his name," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. He cast a slightly embarrassed look at Sam and Dean, who simultaneously caught on and started wandering slowly backwards and glancing anywhere but at Harry and Draco. Harry bit back a smile, and Draco rolled his eyes again.  
  
"Listen, Potter," Draco said, "I'm not going to tell Scorpius about... about you and me in school."  
  
"You aren't telling him about the War?" Harry asked, confused. "He's going to find out eventually..."  
  
"No, I'm going to tell him about the War, idiot," Draco replied. "How else is he going to understand the looks we get when we walk down the street!" Draco snapped his mouth shut, as though he had spoken a secret, and Harry grimaced. The looks Malfoy got in Diagon Alley were no secret, and Harry didn't want to think about Draco's son getting them as well.  
  
"What I mean is..." Draco began again, carefully, "I'm not going to badmouth you in front of my son."  
  
"Oh," Harry said, "uh, thanks?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes yet again, and Harry started to wonder if it were possible for someone to roll their eyes so much that they fell out of their head. Then Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes, briefly...maybe they hurt from all the rolling.  
  
"I'd appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy," Draco said cautiously. Harry was confused. "I just don't want..." Draco continued, but then stopped and tried again. "I am not opposed to Scorpius choosing his own friends."  
  
"Oh," Harry said, and this time he truly did understand. "I wouldn't..." Harry started to say, but then stopped. He wouldn't have badmouthed Malfoy anyway, and he wouldn't have turned his children against some poor kid who had never done anything wrong, but he knew that's not what Malfoy wanted to hear. "You have my word, Malfoy."  
  
Draco looked relieved, perhaps simply due to the fact that the horrendous conversation was over.  
  
"I'll even talk to Ron for you," Harry said cheerfully, then paused, "unless you're making an exception for Weasleys...?"  
  
"Harry, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but your children are Weasleys too," Draco replied, "so, there are no exceptions. I mean what I say - he should have the choice."  
  
"Alright, then, I'll talk to Ron about it," Harry reiterated. "I'm not making any promises, but I know Hermione will understand, so if Ron doesn't want to sleep on the couch, he'll keep his mouth shut."  
  
"She will?" Draco said, clearly surprised, then caught himself. "I mean, I used to call her a mud-"  
  
"You're also talking about the girl who argued for Centuar rights even after they launched a volley of arrows at her and called her an inferior species." Harry laughed.  
  
"Well, I always thought she was deranged. I guess I should be thankful for it," Draco chuckled.  
  
Phil returned from the Ministry then, giving the sleeping security guard an assessing look as he ran up to them.  
  
"Roger thinks he's fallen asleep at his desk," Phil reported. "All evidence that we were there has been erased. I ended the spell you had over the paintings. It took me a bit, because you forgot to mention that it was a clusterfuck of different cloaking charms... sir."  
  
"Oops, sorry about that, Phil." Harry grimaced.  
  
Draco pulled a novelty key-chain out of his pocket that had a bright red miniature double-decker bus hanging from it. It looked bizarre for Draco to be holding something so colourful with his pale hands and dark clothing.  
  
"What?" Draco said defensively. "It was a gift." Harry laughed. "It's also my illegal international port-key," Draco continued with a wink.  
  
"Well, it's certainly inconspicuous," Harry said sarcastically.   
  
"Ha ha, Potter," Draco replied evenly. Draco turned his attention towards Phil and gave him a nod. "I'm sure the pleasure was all mine, Mr. O'Shaughnessy," and then he turned to Dean and Sam, who stood only a dozen feet away, obviously having listened to everything. "Thank you for not killing me."  
  
"Uh, no problem?" Sam answered, while Dean laughed. Draco smiled.  
  
" _Portus,_ " Draco said, touching the tip of his wand to bright red keychain. It glowed blue for a brief moment, and Harry heard Draco count under his breath, "Three, two-"  
  
"See ya, Drake!" Dean waved with a bright grin.  
  
And the brief look of shock on Draco's face before he whirled away into nothing had Harry laughing his head off.


	19. Chapter 19

"What?" Dean said, innocently. "Draco's a freakin' weird name, man... speaking of which, who the hell names their kid  _Scorpius_? Seriously, if he wants the kid to make friends, he should have rethought that name choice. Kid sounds like he should either be battling Godzilla or leading a Dungeon Quest in his parents' basement."  
  
Sam smiled and shook his head slowly.   
  
"And on that note," Harry said, "we've got to leave before that guard wakes up. Dean, you're with Phil this time. I'm taking Sam."  
  
"Oh hell no," Dean said. "I am not going on the Magic Wizard Vomit Ride again, and neither is Sammy. We'll steal a car and drive back to South Carolina before I..."  
  
Harry sighed and walked up to Sam.  
  
"...let you do that; last time you said something about splinching and..."  
  
"What's splinching?" Sam looked down at Harry in concern, while Dean continued his rant,  
  
"...I don't know what that is, but it sure as hell doesn't sound good..."  
  
"Hopefully you won't find out," Harry said, and placed his hand on Sam's arm. "Just think of the hotel room."  
  
Harry turned and tugged Sam behind him through the dark tight nothingness. Phil was right, Sam really did pull wrong; at least now, Harry knew why.   
  
*  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean stared at the spot where Harry and his brother had just been. He swung his gaze over to Phil, who surprisingly looked as pissed off as he was.  
  
"Fucking Harry Potter..." Phil was muttering under his breath, "get me killed, with his goddamn stunts and his goddamn distrust of authority, and who the hell even gave him a fuckin' job in the first place, for chrissakes, god help us all if he ever goes bad..." Finally, Phil swung his gaze over to Dean warily, as if trying to decide if Dean was going to kill him or not.  
  
"Let's get it over with," Dean said, walking up to Phil. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can both kick Harry's ass."  
  
Phil smiled and grabbed Dean's arm. Dean decided that anger would have to be a good enough distraction from nausea.  
  
Once the hotel room swam back into focus, Dean immediately looked for Sam. He was sitting on the end of the bed, holding his head in his hands, but raised it a little at the sound of Dean appearing. Dean could see that he was fine, just pale and probably nauseated from the trip. Harry stood beside him, looking cautiously at Dean.  
  
In the next second, Harry was pinned to the wall at eye-level, Dean's hands fisted in his shirt, with his feet dangling nearly a foot off the ground.  
  
"Don't ever do that again," Dean ground out.  
  
"Dean-" Sam's voice came from behind him.  
  
"I won't, I promise. I'm sorry," Harry said in a rush before Sam could say anything else. Dean studied Harry's eyes for a moment, and all he saw was sincerity and wariness. Dean lowered Harry back to the ground and let go of his shirt.   
  
When he turned back to the room, Sam was staring at him angrily. Dean shut him up with a glare.  
  
"Phil's angry at you too," Dean said, "You might want to apologize."  
  
"Phil, I'm really sorry," Harry said. Dean looked over at Phil, who was looking a little bit wide-eyed, as if someone had just dropped him inside the Twilight Zone.  
  
"Um, apology accepted, sir," Phil replied.  
  
"You're dismissed for the remainder of your shift, and you can take tomorrow off too, if you like," Harry continued. "Go get some sleep. I'll check in with the team."  
  
"No, you're staying here," Dean interrupted. Harry turned towards him in surprise.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"Harry," Sam started, "there have already been two attempts to capture you tonight..."  
  
"So, from here on out you aren't going anywhere without either me or Sam with you," Dean finished.  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Harry said, "I'm the bloody Squad Commander, I can't-"  
  
"And we're Hunters," Dean interrupted, "and if you want to stay alive, you'll do as we say."  
  
"Is that a threat?" Phil asked.  
  
"No, it's the truth," Sam replied calmly.  
  
Dean picked up the spare pillow from his bed, and tossed it to Harry.  
  
"Make your bed. We can fight about it more tomorrow," Dean said.  
  
"I have to check in with the team," Harry stated, but Dean heard the tone behind it, and knew Harry wasn't fighting with him, he was asking permission.   
  
"Call Deacon here then," Dean replied.  
  
Harry put down the pillow and took out his communication mirror. Deacon appeared in the room a half minute later.  
  
"Reporting, sir," Deacon said as soon as he appeared. "Shortly after your departure last night, the Dementors began moving north. I deployed half the team to follow them, while the other half remained here, keeping the hotel secure, as per your orders. Last report from the mobile unit has the Dementors in Virginia, still heading north. There have been no further incidents of attacks on Muggles."  
  
"Thanks, Deacon," Harry said. "Keep me apprised of any changes. Inform the team at the hotel that we'll be joining the other team in the morning."  
  
Dean shifted on his feet only slightly and crossed his arms in a casual way. Harry's eyes flicked briefly towards him and then back to Deacon. Dean knew that he had gotten the message.  
  
"I will be travelling separately," Harry said. "All communication will occur through the mirror, unless I ask for you to appear in person specifically."  
  
"Yes, sir," Deacon responded.  
  
"Alright, thanks, Deacon," Harry finished. "You may go."  
  
Once Deacon turned and disappeared. Harry turned to Phil.  
  
"Could you find me a pensieve?" Harry asked.  
  
"I thought you were giving me a day off," Phil replied.  
  
"Yeah, I am," Harry said. "I'm asking you if, on your day off, you could find me a pensieve...since you'll have the time."  
  
"Well, as long as we both understand that I have the day off..." Phil said, rolling his eyes, but then gave Harry a significant look. "You sure you're alright here?" he asked. Dean knew what Phil was really asking. He knew that the wizard didn't trust Sam and him, and hell, he couldn't really blame the guy.  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "Go on, I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"It's already tomorrow," Phil said, as he turned and disappeared as well.  
  
"Now that I know how that disappearing thing feels, I can't believe you guys don't use doors more often," Dean said.   
  
"I think they just like showing off in front of Muggles, personally," Harry smiled.  
  
"What's a pensieve?" Sam asked  
  
"You'll find out tomorrow," Harry responded, and changed the pillow Dean had thrown him earlier into a cot again, then dropped down into it bonelessly.  
  
"No, you are not going to bed right now," Dean said. "I want to know what's in that file!"  
  
"Oh!" Harry said, rolling back off the cot and walking over to his shoulder bag. "I forgot."  
  
"You  _forgot,_ " Dean said incredulously. "You just spent the past five hours breaking into your own government, stealing files, and fighting demons, and you _forgot_  the whole reason you went in there in the first place?"  
  
"Well, you have to admit, it's been a long night," Harry said, and Dean could have sworn the guy was blushing a bit. "Besides, my main reason for breaking into the Department of Mysteries was to use the Chamber, so that  _you_  wouldn't be dependent on me for survival. The irony that I'm now apparently relying on you to protect  _me_  has not escaped my notice."  
  
"Uh, yeah...thanks for that," Sam said, "and um, sorry about the demons."  
  
Dean just rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, let's see it then," Dean said, and held out his hands for the thick folder that Harry had pulled out of his bottomless bag. Harry handed it over and Dean sat down at the small table, while Sam pulled the other chair around and practically pressed himself against Dean's side so that they could read at the same time.   
  
"Shit... they know everything," Sam muttered. "How could they... it's all here. Yellow-eyes killing our Mom, the schools we went to... Stanford... Jess... the Shifter in St. Louis..."  
  
"Yeah, Sammy, I  _am_  able to recognize my own life, you know," Dean said, hoping that Sam would shut up.  
  
"How did they find out all this stuff?" Dean asked Harry.  
  
"Divination, and some Muggle sources," Harry replied. "Looks like they got most of the early childhood information from your FBI files. As for the later stuff, they cite some source called 'Edlund', but I have no idea what that means."  
  
Dean kept reading; the deal their Dad had made was in there...not the specifics, but the fact that he had summoned Yellow-eyes and then Dean had lived, their Dad had died, and the colt had gone missing. The information was fairly solid, only missing a detail or two here and there, up until the entry about him going to hell. After that the information got a bit sketchy. Dean noticed that the 'Edlund' source was no longer being named, and figured that whatever that source was, it had somehow run out.  
  
"But  _why_  are they so interested in us?" Sam asked. "Why gather this much information?"  
  
Dean looked up at Harry and was surprised to see something flicker through his eyes briefly...something a little like fear.  
  
"I don't know, Sam. I think it must have something to do with whatever you guys are mixed up in  _now_ ," Harry answered. "This Lilith demon, she must be a threat to us as well. Whatever is going on, the Department has somehow discovered that you two are involved, or maybe just that you might know what is going on. They must just be trying to determine  _how_  you are involved, and what you may know."  
  
Dean considered this. They knew about his deal, and they knew that Lilith had held the contract, thanks to whoever or whatever this 'Edlund' source was, so maybe that was enough to make the connection that they knew what Lilith was doing. Yet, Harry had said that all the information had been gathered in the late summer...after he had...and that had nothing to do with Lilith, and there was nothing mentioned in the file about what Dean had done. The entries for the end of August and beginning of September were them trying to locate Sam and they don't mention him at all until some strange line saying,  _"Dean Winchester returns from dead. Human and alive. Method unknown._ "  
  
"Listen," Harry said. "It's late, or, rather, early. We'll have plenty of time to look over the rest of the file tomorrow while we travel. Let's just get to sleep."  
  
"You two go ahead," Dean said. "I'll keep reading."  
  
"Not if you want to drive tomorrow, man," Sam said, and Dean looked up to see that familiar expression of poorly hidden concern. Once Dean's eyes met Sam's, Sam finished with, "Just try, alright?" and Dean knew that Sam knew how tired he was, and that he was only trying to put off the inevitable. All this time, he had hoped the dreams would stop, but they never did.  
  
Normally, Dean would have told Sam to mind his own damn business and leave him alone, but he really didn't want to have Harry witness another fight between them. Harry was depending on them to keep him safe, and it wouldn't instill much confidence if they were at each other's throats over something as simple as whether or not Dean should go to bed.  
  
"Fine, but only because driver picks the music," Dean said.  
  
*  
  
The next morning had them packing up and throwing their duffle bags in the Impala. Once Harry was finished in the bathroom, he just stood out of the way as Sam and Dean double checked their guns, armed themselves, and swept the room to make sure they hadn't left any trace of themselves behind. At the last minute, Harry remembered the alteration he had made to Sam's bed, and quickly reduced the mattress back to its original size. Sam gave him a smile and Harry knew that, as long as he was traveling with the Winchesters, he would be lengthening Sam's bed every time they stopped for the night.  
  
Once the car was packed, Harry slid into the back seat without protest. Unlike most wizards, Harry knew the protocol when it came to cars - and knew that there was absolutely no contest for who rode in the front. At least he wasn't sharing the back seat with Dudley... instead he was sharing it with a stack of books, and the Winchester's clothing duffles - both dirty and clean. Sam at least apologized for that, telling him that the weapons stash in the trunk actually took up a lot of room, and they really had no choice.  
  
"It's nice, though, having the clothes there when you're sleeping, makes the bed a little wider," Sam added. Harry tried to picture Sam all scrunched up in the back of the car trying to sleep, and wondered how often they did that. Then he remembered Dean's memory of waking up pressed against a back door with Sam burrowed into him and their father driving, and figured they probably did it more often than they cared to.  
  
They stopped for breakfast an hour into the trip, when Dean recognized a diner and declared it to be one of his favorites.   
  
"The one with the blueberry pie?" Sam asked for confirmation.  
  
"Yeah, man, you should see this blueberry pie!" Dean said enthusiastically to Harry. "Huge fucking blueberries, no top crust."  
  
"You're going to have pie for breakfast?" Harry asked. Sam laughed softly, and Dean just grinned.  
  
"Every meal of the day deserves a little dessert!" 

As it turned out, Dean was right about the pie. It was delicious. Sam seemed surprised when the waitress brought it out. When Harry asked why he seemed to shocked, he said that they hadn't actually been to the diner in over eight years.   
  
"Eight years?" Harry said. "You remembered pie from eight years ago?"  
  
"Dude, you do not forget pie like this," Dean muttered around a mouthful of said pie.  
  
"It  _is_  good pie," Sam agreed.  
  
"So, do you guys have a map of America in your brain, with all the best places to stop for pie mentally circled?" Harry laughed.  
  
"Pretty much," Dean said with a wink.  
  
Once they were finished with their pie, they hit the road again. Harry was in charge of directions, which he did by using a locating spell and having his wand simply point in the direction where the rest of his team were, then telling Dean to drive in that vague direction. Dean seemed fine with this, as he and Sam seemed to also have a map of America in their head with all the roads with the least traffic highlighted.  
  
Harry's team were traveling by broomstick. Normally, Harry would have loved to join them, but there was actually something kind of nice about sitting in the back of Dean's car, listening to music while the scenery flew by.   
  
When they reached Virginia, Harry called Deacon on his mirror for an update. The Dementors were in Pennsylvania. Dean and Sam decided to find a motel just outside of Washington, D.C. for the night.   
  
They found a small place that seemed to have an underwater theme to it, and Harry wasn't quite sure why, since it was miles inland, but Sam and Dean simply shrugged.   
  
They ordered food in for supper, and Dean placed their file on the small motel table and pulled up a chair. Flipping through the biographical information that he and Sam had reviewed the night before, and reaching another bundle of papers that they hadn't had a chance to look at yet. Sam sat beside Dean and read over his shoulder again.  
  
Harry was just about to ask if they could pass the pages over to him when they were done with them, so he could read them more thoroughly himself, when his communicating mirror spoke his name.  
  
"Yes, Phil?" Harry said, flipping it open.  
  
"Delivery for Captain Potter," Phil deadpanned. "Permission to come aboard?"  
  
"Granted," Harry said, laughing, knowing that Phil had probably already had a look around the motel before calling.  
  
There was a knock at the door, and then Phil walked into the room, carrying a stone bowl.  
  
"Excellent," Harry said. "You've found one!"  
  
"Yes, because I love spending my days off rummaging through my grandmother's attic," Phil answered. "Just don't break it, Ma would kill me."  
  
"How on earth would I break a pensieve, Phil?" Harry asked.   
  
"I'm sure you'd find a way, sir," Phil answered. "Is there anything else that I can do for you while I'm not obligated to do anything for you?"  
  
"No, Phil, that's all, thanks," Harry replied. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Phil took his leave, glancing over at the Winchesters only briefly with a small wave. Harry carried the pensieve over to the table and placed it carefully down. It was a little different than the one Harry had inherited from Dumbledore, but Harry was sure that it functioned just the same.  
  
Dean and Sam both looked up from the papers as the stone bowl clunked onto the table in front of them.  
  
"So..." Harry said. "Who wants to go first?"  
  
"Uh, are we supposed to guess what it is?" Dean said. "Because if so, my answer is 'large stone bowl', what do I win?"  
  
"It's a pensieve," Harry answered. "I told you I'd let you see my memories if you wanted. To make up for the fact that I looked at yours. The pensieve allows me to show you any memory I have. So, who wants to go first?"  
  
Both brothers were now leaning over the bowl curiously.   
  
"How does it work?" Sam asked.   
  
"Choose who goes first, and I'll show you," Harry replied.  
  
"I-" Sam started.  
  
"I'll go first," Dean cut in abruptly. Sam didn't look too happy about this, but he didn't say anything.  
  
"Ok, Dean," Harry said. "What do you want to see? I saw your happiest memories, would you like to see mine?"  
  
Dean seemed to consider it for a moment.  
  
"No," he answered. "Since you saw my memories without permission. I want to see a memory that you don't want to share. I want to see something that you normally wouldn't let anyone see."  
  
Harry swallowed; he supposed he should have seen this coming.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said. "I don't think-"  
  
"No, it's okay," Harry replied. "Uh, what sort of...I mean, there are memories with my wife, but I hardly doubt you want to see that..."  
  
"Ugh!" Dean said, waving his hands through the air as if to get rid of something. "Hot as your wife is, I do not need to see you getting it on."  
  
Harry laughed, "Well, that's a relief."  
  
"Show me something from the war," Dean said. "Something you did that you wish you hadn't..."  
  
It was then that Harry realized that this wasn't about being fair anymore, it was about testing his character. As Harry settled on a memory and lifted his wand to his temple, he only hoped that he would pass.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean watched as Harry touched his wand to his temple, then slowly pulled it away along with a shimmering thick blue substance that seemed part smoke and part liquid. He placed it in the stone bowl on the table, where it filled the bottom like water.   
  
Dean really hoped that he didn't have to drink it.   
  
"Ok," Harry said, "lean into the bowl. I'll be right behind you."  
  
"What?" Dean asked, a little confused.   
  
"Just... lean into the bowl," Harry repeated. "Look closely at the liquid; as you get close to it, you'll see some images...try to get as close as you can to them. There will be a tipping point - just go with it."  
  
"What do you mean you'll be right behind me?" Dean asked.  
  
"You'll see," Harry said. "Now, would you just do it. I'm not exactly looking forward to this."  
  
Dean shrugged and leaned over the bowl. The liquid shimmered nicely. Dean tried not to think about the fact that whatever it was had just come from inside Harry's head. It still just looked like water though, so Dean leaned in even closer. Then he started to see shapes, but he couldn't really make them out. It sort of looked like a hallway. He leaned closer, and then he was falling.  
  
His first instinct was to freak out, but he was distracted by the fact that he had landed in a very ornate stone hallway. Tapestries hung on the wall, along with moving portraits. Dean guessed that, wherever he was, it was obviously some wizard building.   
  
Then Dean spotted Harry walking away from him down the hallway...only Harry hadn't been wearing those clothes a minute ago.   
  
"Harry, man, wait up," Dean said, and jogged up behind Harry. Harry didn't turn around or acknowledge him. Dean was about to get pissed off, but then he saw Harry's face. He was only a kid. This Harry was a memory.  
  
Suddenly, there was someone else beside him. Dean looked to see the older Harry.  
  
"Sorry, had to calm Sam down," Harry said. "So, uh, you know that no one in the memory can hear you, right?"  
  
"Figured, yeah," Dean mumbled, then pointed to the young Harry that they were keeping stride with. "Harry - you're just a kid."  
  
The real Harry smiled sadly.  
  
"Dean," Harry said. "I think you and I both know that some people are never just kids."  
  
"Where are we?" Dean asked, purposefully changing the subject.  
  
"Hogwarts," Harry answered. "Wizarding school. I'm sixteen. It's nearly two years since Voldemort returned. I suspect Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and that he is up to something. I'm correct, of course, but...well, you'll see."  
  
Dean looked to the young memory of Harry and realized that he had slowed and had pulled out an old piece of paper. It seemed to be a map of the building. Just as Dean was trying to see what it said, the memory of Harry walked right into a suit of armor, which clattered in the empty hall. Dean couldn't help but laugh. The real Harry just shook his head at himself, before the young Harry took off running down a nearby staircase.   
  
Suddenly, they were all by a door. The younger Harry pressed his ear to it.   
  
"The map told me where people were in the school..." Harry said, just as the younger Harry slowly opened the door. Dean slipped in beside him and took in the scene. It was a bathroom, and there was a young blond kid by the sinks, crying...  
  
"No one can help me," he was saying to someone. "I can't do it...I can't...it won't work...and unless I do it soon...he says he'll kill me..."  
  
Dean realized that this was Draco. God, he was just a kid. Dean saw the moment that Draco noticed Harry in the mirror. He instinctively ducked when the first spell flew towards him, but when the shards of glass from the shattered lamp rained down right through him, he realized that he wasn't in danger. Dean was amazed at the spells being thrown back and forth. He didn't know what any of them were, but the amount of destruction to bathroom whenever a spell missed was insane. He suddenly understood why wizards didn't have much muscle to them - why work out when you can destroy a toilet with a single word?  
  
There was a voice screaming for them to stop, a female voice from inside the bathroom. Dean looked and saw the ghost of a young girl perched on a cistern. Then, one of Harry's spells hit the cistern and sprayed water everywhere.  
  
" _Cruci_ -" Draco said.  
  
" _SECTUMSEMPRA_ " Harry yelled, and Dean watched in horror as large deep cuts instantly slashed across Draco's face and chest. It reminded Dean of the way the Yellow-Eyed Demon had cut him while it was wearing his father...pinned him to the wall and sliced him open. Only this was quicker. He watched as Draco fell to the floor, going limp, his hands trying to stop his own bleeding, but it was futile and he was shaking far too much.   
  
"No - I didn't - " Young Harry was saying, both Young Harry and Dean ran over to where Malfoy lay shaking uncontrollably on the wet floor. Then, the ghost started screaming murder. Dean had to clench his fist to stop himself from trying to help; he knew it was pointless...that somehow Draco survived. He had just seen him the previous night.  
  
The door banged open and a tall man in black came running into the room.  
  
"Enough," said the real Harry, who still stood by the door. Suddenly, the walls of the castle swirled in inky lines around hm, and Dean was outside by a lake. The real Harry stood beside him.  
  
"I often wonder what would have happened if that had gone differently," Harry said. "I didn't even know what that spell did when I used it, you have to understand. I didn't know it was so... I hadn't meant to kill him."  
  
"How did he survive?" Dean asked.  
  
"The man who came in saved him," Harry said. "As far as I know, he doesn't even have any scars. Mind you, I've never asked to see his chest."  
  
"Well, he did fire the first shot," Dean said.  
  
"Still," Harry said, "sometimes I wonder if I could have done something differently. If I could have helped him sooner. At the very least, I wish I hadn't used that spell."  
  
"I thought you would show me the time you used the torturing spell," Dean admitted.  
  
"You wanted a regret," Harry explained. "I don't regret the time I used that spell. I used it on someone who had been torturing students, who spat in the face of a woman I greatly admired. I understand why it is an Unforgivable - hell, I've been on the receiving end of it more than once - and I'll never use it again - but I don't regret using it then."  
  
"I do," Dean said under his breath, and then cursed himself for saying anything at all. The last thing he wanted to do was tell a complete stranger about what he had done in Hell. He only hoped Harry hadn't heard him.  
  
"Then you're a better man than I," Harry said softly, looking over the lake instead of at Dean. Just as he spoke, something broke the surface of the lake. Dean felt his jaw drop open as he realized it was an extremely large tentacle.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Dean said.  
  
"Oh, that's the giant squid," Harry said shrugging. Dean looked around then. They were standing by a lake surrounded by mountains, and there was an ominous looking castle behind them.   
  
"Where the hell are we?" Dean asked bewildered.  
  
"Still Hogwarts - my school," Harry said. "I needed a memory to talk to you in...in case you had any questions about what you had seen. That's me doing homework over there." Harry pointed towards the shade of a nearby tree, and Dean saw a younger version of Harry bent over a roll of parchment with a feathered pen. There were other kids with him, a taller red-headed boy and a bushy-haired girl. The girl was seemingly reading five books at once, while the redhead appeared to be asleep.  
  
"You were a skinny kid," Dean said.  
  
"I was malnourished," Harry stated plainly. "It's always surprised me that no one ever commented on it, not openly anyway. Ron's mother - that's Ron there - would get this look on her face when she saw me at the end of the summer. I realize now that she must have known, but at the time I'm not sure  _I_  really knew... you know? When you're a kid, you tend to just accept things as normal, even when they aren't... even when they should never be."  
  
"Your family did that to you?" Dean asked, still staring at the young skinny Harry.  
  
"Yeah, they didn't like me much," Harry said dismissively. Then he seemed to brace himself. "So, besides what I just showed you: there's the time I decided to let Cedric grab the Goblet of Fire at the same time I did, so that we could both win the Tri-Wizard Tournament - only it was a trick by Voldemort and Cedric ended up dead. Then there was the time Voldemort tricked me into going to the Department of Mysteries - made me think I had to rescue my Godfather... and really I only succeeded in getting him killed. And I could show you those memories if you wanted. I could... but I really don't want to. I don't want to see them die again... I don't know if I can... but, if you want..."  
  
Dean stood in shock, the gravity of what he had asked of Harry finally hitting him. Harry just stood there, waiting for Dean to give word on whether or not he wanted to see more. And Dean pictured reliving his father's death... or Sammy's... in 3D technicolour with surround-sound, and paled at the thought of anyone asking that of him.   
  
Dean shook his head numbly and swallowed. "No... no, I don't.... What you showed me is enough. Thanks."  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure," Dean said.  
  
"Did I pass?" Harry asked. Dean raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to not know what he was talking about. He knew he could have asked Harry to show him the time he tortured someone; it was what he had expected Harry to show him - he had expected that Harry would regret it, would feel as ashamed of himself as Dean felt. The truth was, Dean was kind of glad that Harry hadn't shown him that. He wasn't sure he wanted to see it. What Harry had shown him instead...well...  
  
Harry was smiling in a way that told Dean that he knew full well that it had been a test, and that he wasn't buying Dean's pretend confusion. Dean shrugged, and glanced back over at the Younger Harry.  
  
"Yeah," Dean said, "I guess so."  
  
Dean felt Harry put a hand on his arm, and the next thing he was back in the motel room, with a very concerned Sam giving him a wide-eyed stare.  
  
"Dude! Where'd you go?" Sam asked.  
  
"Uh... in the bowl?" Dean answered.  
  
"I know! But... where... how..." Sam trailed off, trying to pick a question. Harry laughed from beside Dean.  
  
"Your turn, Sam," Harry said. "Just let me get it set up for you."  
  
Harry removed the liquid that was in the bowl with a wave of his wand, and then started drawing out new silver-blue memories from his temple. He drew out far more than he had for Dean.  
  
"Uh, aren't you going to ask me what I want to see?" Sam asked. "Or show me the same as you showed Dean?"  
  
"No," Harry answered. "I already know what I'm showing you, though, I suppose if there is something in particular you want to see, I could add it. Did you have something in mind?"  
  
"Um, no, not really," Sam answered. "What are you showing me?"  
  
"Something I'm hoping will help," Harry stated, then gave the contents of the bowl a small stir with his wand. "Alright, lean in."  
  
Dean watched as Sam cautiously stood and looked down into the bowl, then hesitantly bent closer and closer, until his face was nearly touching the shimmering surface. Then, suddenly, a flash of blue light, and Sam's feet were disappearing into the bowl. Dean couldn't believe it. Harry's explanation of being late because he had to calm Sam down suddenly made a whole lot of sense. Sammy must have freaked if Dean had disappeared into a bowl like that.   
  
Harry threw a smirk at Dean as if reading his mind, and then he too disappeared into the liquid.  
  
*   
  
Sam was standing in a zoo. There was a large fat man and a skinny blonde woman ambling away from him, presumably following a chubby kid that appeared to be their offspring. Sam did not understand why he was in a zoo. Sam wondered if the bowl people could see him, but had his question answered as a very small skinny kid walked through his right leg.   
  
"So, this is a zoo," Harry stated as he suddenly appeared beside him.  
  
"I gathered," Sam said.  
  
"That's me there," Harry said, pointing to the small skinny kid, who was trailing after the family that Sam had seen when he arrived.   
  
He watched as the family approached a glass cage with a snake in it. The chubby kid started whining about the snake not moving, and the fat father rapped sharply on the glass to try to get a response. Sam couldn't help but think of his own father, who would have rapped sharply on  _him_  if he had ever whined like that.  
  
When the snake didn't respond, the chubby kid and his family wandered off, and left just Harry by the glass cage. Sam was just about to ask why this was important, when Harry started hissing at the snake, and the snake started hissing back. The really odd thing was that Sam could hear the conversation in English too, as if he were listening to EVP. There was the hissing but, over top of that, there was a simple conversation - with Harry apparently asking the snake about itself.  
  
Suddenly, a boy behind Harry took notice of what was happening, and the chubby boy and his family came back over. The chubby boy punched Harry in the ribs and the glass vanished, the snake escaped, people were screaming, and Sam actually heard the snake thank Harry as it slithered out the door.  
  
Speaking over top of the bedlam, the older Harry began to explain.  
  
"That's my cousin, and my Aunt and Uncle." Harry pointed to the family. "They lock me in the cupboard for weeks because of this, but I still think of it as a fairly good day, all things considered."  
  
"Wizards can talk to snakes?" Sam asked, wondering why this was important.  
  
"Not quite," Harry said. "You read about me in those books, yeah? About how Voldemort killed my parents?" Sam nodded, and Harry continued. "Well, growing up, I didn't know any of that. My Aunt and Uncle were Muggles. They hated magic. They told me that my parents died in a car crash. I didn't find out until I was eleven about all that Boy-Who-Lived stuff. Anyway, when I learned about being a wizard, I figured...like you just did, that talking to snakes was just part of the whole Wizard thing."  
  
The scene changed around Sam, and now they were standing in a room, surrounded by children in school uniforms and robes. There was a tall greasy haired man and a blond man in the centre of the room. The greasy man was all in black and looked very annoyed, and Sam could guess it probably had something to do with the blond guy being a pompous ass - if the way he dressed and his cheesy smile were anything to go by.   
  
"Second-year, dueling demonstration," Harry said from beside him. Sam watched as the greasy haired man suggested that Malfoy and Harry do a demonstration. The Memory-Harry seemed a bit older than the Harry at the zoo, and had a bit more of a healthy look to him, though he was still a little smaller and skinnier than his classmates.  
  
Sam watched amazed as a young version of Malfoy faced Harry. Sam could tell by the way that Harry and Malfoy looked at each other that they absolutely despised each other.  
  
The duel began and Sam watched as the young boys fired spells at each other with determination. Malfoy actually shot a snake right at Harry. The pompous blond man said he'd get rid of it, but only made it fly into the air and come back down angrier, then take off towards one of the students threateningly. Sam watched as Memory Harry commanded the snake. Hissing again, with the English over top like bad dubbing - yet judging by the looks of the people around the room, Sam was beginning to suspect that they couldn't hear the English.  
  
"We hear the English, because I remember it as English. I didn't even know I was hissing," the real Harry said from beside him. "It's bizarre for me to watch it now, to hear how I sounded."  
  
Then there was a red-haired boy pulling Harry fearfully from the room, and a bushy-haired girl quickly running after them. Sam and the real Harry followed, while the scene shifted just slightly and Sam found himself in an ornate room decorated in red and gold.   
  
"You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?" the red-haired boy said.  
  
"I'm a what?" Harry said.  
  
"A Parselmouth!" the red-haired boy said again. "You can talk to snakes!"  
  
Harry told the red-haired boy about the boa-constrictor in the zoo, and then said what Sam had thought, that probably lots of wizards could do it.  
  
"Oh no they can't," the other boy said. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."  
  
Sam was as confused as the young Harry looked. Then the scene changed yet again. This time Sam and the real Harry were following the younger Harry down the hallways, as the other students gave him a wide berth, clearly terrified of him.   
  
"I'm revealing events to you, as they were revealed to me," the real Harry said from beside him.  
  
"Why is talking to snakes so bad?" Sam asked.  
  
"It's not, in and of itself," Harry answered. "It just so happens that usually, well... up until me, it had really only been Dark Wizards that were Parselmouths, Salazar Slytherin being the most famous, the second most famous being Voldemort." Harry paused, and sighed sadly at the younger version of himself. "Now, this next memory is going to be a bit strange. I'm not entirely sure how it will come out."  
  
Harry waved a hand and the scene changed. This time they were in a darkened corridor, but things were blurry around the edges. Sam glanced around to look for the Memory Harry they were following, but couldn't see anything; well, anything besides the huge snake that was slithering down the corridor. The real Harry breathed deeply from beside him.  
  
"Oh, god," Harry said. "I don't want to see this again."  
  
Then, Sam saw the man come into focus, a red-haired man sitting against the wall. He spotted the snake and stood, withdrawing a wand, but it was too late. The snake struck, leaving the man bleeding on the floor.  
  
The memory blurred further, then looked momentarily like a three dimensional double exposure, and someone was yelling Harry's name. Everything came back into focus suddenly, but Sam and the real Harry were now standing in a bedroom, next to a bed surrounded by scared kids. The same red-haired boy as before tried to help a flailing younger Harry out of twisted sheets, and then the younger Harry threw up over the side of the bed. Then, he held his forehead as if his brains had been trying to escape.  
  
"A vision," Sam breathed the word. "You had a vision."  
  
The scared and concerned look on the red-haired boy's face was the same as Sam saw in Dean's face whenever Sam returned from his own visions. Sam realized that both Harry and the red-haired boy were a little bit older than in the last memory, a couple of years at least. They were now fully teenagers, not children. Sam saw the real Harry give him a surprised look, but Sam didn't divert his attention away from the memory.  
  
"Your dad," the Teenage Harry said desperately to the red-haired boy, "Your dad's been attacked."  
  
Sam felt the dread coil in his stomach - oh god, Harry had known the man.  
  
Harry repeated himself when the red-haired boy didn't seem to understand him, and one of the other kids ran to get help.   
  
"Harry, mate," the red-haired boy said. "You... you were just dreaming..."  
  
Sam had flashbacks to Dean's own arguments that night they had sped to Max Miller's house.   
  
"No!" Memory Harry said. "It wasn't a dream...not an ordinary dream...I was there...I saw it...I  _did_  it..."  
  
"You were the snake," Sam said aghast. "You dreamt you were the snake."  
  
"It wasn't a dream," the real Harry said softly. "My consciousness was in the snake."  
  
Sam watched as a stern looking woman came into the room, and Harry repeated himself to her.  
  
"I don't understand," Sam said. "It's not the same as my visions..."  
  
"So, you have visions too?" Harry asked, and Sam realized what he had just given away.  
  
"I... not for a while," Sam answered, "not since we killed the demon."  
  
"Interesting," Harry said.  
  
The scene changed again. Now Sam and Harry were standing in a hospital corridor. The Teenage Harry and the red-haired boy were with two older red-haired twins and a younger red-haired girl.  _All siblings, obviously_ , thought Sam. One of the twins pulled out an odd coloured mess of string from his pocket. There were five strings, which all joined together and attached to a fleshy ear, which seemed to wiggle itself under the hospital room door beside the group on command.   
  
Sam watched as the Teenage Harry placed the end of the string he held into his ear, and then Sam could hear whatever the Teenage Harry could hear inside the room. There was a woman whispering about the snake, about how they couldn't find it. A gruff man's voice stated that it must have been a lookout for Voldemort, and then they started talking about how Harry had seen it all happen...  
  
"...the boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake," the gruff voice continued. "Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what this means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him..."  
  
The sound abruptly cut off as the teenage Harry yanked the string out of his ear. The red-haired siblings were all looking at him with that look... the look Dean had given him from time to time, the look he absolutely hated.   
  
And then Sam was in a field overlooking a lake in the daylight.  
  
"Do you know what a Horcrux is, Sam?" Harry asked him.  
  
"I read about it," Sam answered. "The book said that Voldemort used them to stay alive. Separated his soul into different parts so that he could resurrect himself. The book said you destroyed them all."  
  
"My friends and I did, yeah," Harry said. "It was the only way Voldemort could be defeated."  
  
"The snake was one of them," Sam said, realizing that all this was a puzzle that Harry wanted him to put together. "The book said that Neville Longbottom destroyed the final Horcrux when he slew the snake Nagini - that was the snake in your vision, right?"  
  
"Yes, it was, and yes, it was the last Horcrux to be destroyed," Harry answered. Sam tried to figure out the significance of that.   
  
"When I had my visions," Sam thought out loud, "they were always only visions of events connected to the demon - to the yellow-eyed demon. They were about places he would be, or other people like me, other people that he had fed his blood to..."  
  
Sam looked to Harry to see if he was on the right track. Harry's face was unreadable, but somehow Sam felt that Harry still thought he could put all the pieces together.  
  
"You... could talk to snakes," Sam started again, stating what he had learnt, "which is something Voldemort could do. Then you had a vision-"  
  
"More than one, inevitably," Harry muttered.  
  
"You had _visions_ , and they were connected to him in some way," Sam continued, seeing Harry nod. "The snake was a Horcrux." Suddenly a slow wave of comprehension washed over Sam. "Harry... how many Horcruxes were there?"  
  
Sam knew before Harry spoke that he had gotten it right. He knew by the small knowing smile that graced Harry's lips briefly. He wondered why no one had put it together before.  
  
"There were seven," Harry said. "Six of which were made intentionally. Voldemort had planned to split his soul into seven pieces, not eight."  
  
"You were a Horcrux," Sam said. "But, how can... you're still..."  
  
"I told you already - I died once," Harry said smiling. "Seriously, I'm beginning to think that you and I should start a club or something, we have so much in common."  
  
Sam felt a little dumbfounded. "But  _how_  and what does this  _mean_?"  
  
"Sam, I wanted to show you this, because I wanted you to know that I understand," Harry said.  
  
"But does this mean that Voldemort can still come back...does this mean that  _I'm_  some sort of Horcrux?" Sam's mind reeled.  
  
"No, it doesn't. In the final battle, I allowed Voldemort to use the killing curse on me," Harry explained. "It only killed me momentarily, but it destroyed the piece of his soul inside me completely...which meant that, once Neville slew the snake, Voldemort was mortal."  
  
Sam nodded, relieved on Harry's behalf that Harry was no longer carrying around a piece of Voldemort. "So, can you still talk to snakes?"  
  
"No," Harry said.  
  
"But I can still...I mean, we killed the yellow-eyed demon, but I can still...so, what if...?" Sam stuttered out.  
  
"You aren't a Horcrux Sam, you're... something else," Harry said. "Listen, and this is really important...there's another reason I showed you all this."  
  
"What is it?" Sam asked.  
  
"There was always a chance that I would turn Dark," Harry stated. "People expected it of me more than once in my life. I had all the markings of a Dark wizard, all the abilities, and even - for at least one horrible year - the temper for it. There was more than one time in my life when everyone I knew was afraid to be in the same room with me."  
  
"We really should start a club..." Sam muttered. Harry smiled.  
  
"The point, Sam, is that I didn't go Dark," Harry said. "It's very important for you to understand this. It's not our abilities that make us who we are, it's our choices."  
  
"So, you don't think I'll go darkside?" Sam said.  
  
"I think that's up to you," Harry replied.  
  
Something broke the surface of the lake water, and Sam was surprised to realize it was a large tentacle.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Sam said.  
  
"The giant squid," Harry replied. "We're at my school. I'm doing homework over there with my mates Ron and Hermione."  
  
Sam looked over and spotted a younger Harry beneath a shady tree, with the red-haired boy and the bushy-haired girl.  
  
"Who knew remembering homework would come in so handy?" Harry said beside him.  
  
"Well, I think that's why they assign it," Sam said, confused. Harry laughed.  
  
"Shall we go back and see your brother? Or is there anything else you would like to know?" Harry asked.  
  
"Your friends..." Sam said, and watched as Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "Did they... ever leave you?"  
  
Sam watched as Harry glanced back over his shoulder at where the memory of himself sat with his friends.   
  
"No," he said, "they never did." Then he seemed to reconsider. "Well... Ron took off for a bit, but... that wasn't because of... what I was."  
  
"Hm," Sam replied.  
  
"Sam?" Harry said, but Sam knew what he was trying to ask.  
  
"Alright, let's go," Sam replied, smiling in a way he hoped was convincing. "See if Dean's discovered anything interesting in that file. Thanks for showing me this, Harry. I appreciate it."  
  
"Sam..."  
  
"How do you get out of here anyway? Do we have to look up?" Sam said, staring up into the blue sky.  
  
He heard Harry sigh, and then a hand was on his arm and he was pulled up and out and found himself back in the motel room. Dean glanced up, slightly concerned.  
  
"And?" Dean said.  
  
"Wizards, man," Sam shrugged, giving a glance to Harry. "Trippy school they have... there's a giant squid in the lake. Did you find anything while I was... um... in the memory bowl?"  
  
Dean looked down at the papers spread out in front of him, threw a measuring glance at Harry, and then leveled a significant look at Sam... and Sam already knew that this wasn't going to be good news.   
  
"They know about the seals."


	21. Chapter 21

"They know about what?" Harry blurted out, then regretted doing so, when it seemed to cause Sam and Dean to go into silent mode. Harry removed the memories from the pensieve, while he observed the silent exchange. Harry really was impressed with the way the two seemed to have whole conversations with nothing but eyebrow movements and intense looks...though there was still the occasional word.  
  
"How much?" Sam asked.  
  
"Enough," Dean answered. Sam made a frustrated motion with his hand, and Dean continued reluctantly, "Like Anna, only without the radio."  
  
"So...then...us?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yeah," Dean nodded with a grimace.  
  
Harry watched Sam sigh and sit down at the table, reaching cautiously past the pensieve in a request to see the papers Dean had been studying. Dean handed them over without a word.  
  
"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" Harry said, figuring he had given them more than enough time to pretend he wasn't in the room. Of course, this just launched another silent brother-to-brother conversation or maybe it was an argument, Harry couldn't tell. If it was an argument, he wasn't sure who was on his side. He really wished he had had more time to look over the file before he handed it to the Winchesters, but he had assumed the only interesting piece of information was the page on the prophecy, which still lay folded and hidden in his shoulder bag.  
  
"How much do you know about Revelations?" Dean finally asked him reluctantly.  
  
"Um, it's the part in the Bible where the world ends? The four horsemen and all that?" Harry answered, dread pooling in his stomach as he pictured the folded piece of paper hidden in his bag.  
  
"Yeah, that's the one. Ok, how do I explain this..." Dean sighed and fell silent in thought.  
  
"There are 66 seals," Sam spoke up and Dean scowled at him. "Lilith is breaking them."  
  
Harry nodded, recognizing the name of the demon that the Winchesters were hunting, the one that had held Dean's contract. He was secretly excited to maybe finally learn what exactly the Winchesters were involved with, after having spent nearly an entire week with them - whoever said Hunters were secretive had not been joking. He wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of seals Sam was talking about though.  
  
"The seals are like locks on a door," Dean added in, as though reading his mind.  
  
"What's behind the door?" Harry asked.  
  
"Lucifer," Dean stated. Harry suddenly found himself sitting on the edge of the bed that he had previously been standing next to, his thoughts going a mile a minute. It wasn't as though he didn't realize what the two lines of the prophecy probably meant. It was just that it had all been speculation on his part then, and now it was real and, not only that, it was already happening.  
  
"So..." Harry started, trying to figure out how to form the correct English sentence. "What you are telling me is that this is the apocalypse?"  
  
"No, no!" Sam said. "Not yet. I mean, we can still stop it from happening. All we have to do is kill Lilith."  
  
"May I please see the file?" Harry asked, but it really wasn't a question; and judging by the speed with which the file appeared in his hand, Sam knew full well that it hadn't been a question.  
  
Harry read over the papers in his hand, wondering if Draco had read them - if he had, he must not have looked closely or why wouldn't he have shown this to Harry first? Though, maybe he just hadn't understood them - it was fairly convoluted. The Rising of the Witnesses, and a date...the mention of a counter-spell emanating from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The words Singer Auto Salvage.  
  
Harry felt Dean sit down beside him on the bed, close but not touching. Harry didn't stop reading, but a cautious finger worked its way into his field of vision, pointing at the word 'Singer'.  
  
"That's Bobby," Dean's voice said softly. Harry nodded, wondering who the hell Bobby was. Then he remembered the brief conversation in a diner that felt like weeks ago - ' _We need a British version of Bobby....a demonlogy expert..._ '  
  
"You were there?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah..." Dean said. "It's when Cas told me about the seals."  
  
Harry nodded and read further. Samhain and Halloween, a place name, some information gathered afterward about deaths and disappearances, then the confirmation that the Winchesters had been there too - that memories had been extracted from a bunch of Muggle teenagers that clearly showed Dean rescuing them from a gated crypt, where their white-eyed teacher had locked them in with the hungry dead.  
  
"We, uh, kind of messed that one up," Dean said softly, pointing at the information, and left it at that.  
  
There were more, other seals that had been broken without the Winchesters around - some off continent. Not anywhere close to 66, but a disturbing number nonetheless.  
  
"And you didn't think it important enough, when I asked..." Harry began, and stopped, then tried again. "You didn't think that maybe you should have mentioned the apocalypse when we spent nearly three days trying to tie Dementors to demons? When I asked what you were up to? I mean, fuck. The apocalypse? I think that's sort of important!"  
  
"Do you think the Dementors are here because of that?" Sam asked, but Dean cut him off.  
  
"It's not the apocalypse. It's just the signs," Dean said. Harry leveled him with a disbelieving look.  
  
"I need to call my wife," Harry said.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said.  
  
"What?!" Harry asked in disbelief and a growing anger. "Not a good idea? You are telling me that we are two dozen or so locks away from Lucifer walking the earth, there are demons after me for some unknown reason, and I can't even call my WIFE to check on my CHILDREN!"  
  
"Dude," Dean said placatingly. "You can call your wife. Of course you can call you wife." Harry watched Dean glare at Sam while Harry took a deep breath.  
  
"You're bloody well right, I can," Harry muttered, standing to retrieve his communication mirror.  
  
"Just don't tell her about the apocalypse, okay?" Dean said. "Just... there's no reason to panic."  
  
"Right," Harry said. "I don't think...I don't think I want to tell her anyway. It's just... how are we going to fix this?"  
  
" _We_ aren't going to fix it," Dean said. "Me and Sam are going to fix it. This doesn't have anything to do with you."  
  
"It has  _something_  to do with him, Dean," Sam interjected, "which was why I wanted to interrogate those demons. We need to know why they want him."  
  
"Why does it matter?" Dean asked. "All that matters is that they don't get him!"  
  
"It matters," Harry answered before Sam could respond, "because otherwise we don't know how long you have to bloody protect me from them! A day? A week? Until the bloody Rapture!?! My whole LIFE?! Well, maybe that won't be so bad, maybe it'll be much shorter than I thought! All the more reason to call my wife!"  
  
"Exactly," Sam said. "We don't have time for this. I'm going to find Ruby and ask her if she knows what's going on." Sam was already shrugging on his coat by the time he completed his sentence. "I won't be long."  
  
"Sam, we can figure this out without your goddamn demon girlfriend!" Dean bit out roughly.  
  
"You're dating a demon?" Harry asked in disbelief, suddenly realizing that he had assumed this Ruby person that Sam kept wanting to consult was another Hunter. If she were a demon... well, Dean's disapproval of her made all the more sense. And sickeningly, so did the first line of the prophecy.  
  
"I'm not dating her, I'm using her," Sam said roughly. "I know what I'm doing."  
  
"Do you?" Harry asked, because he couldn't help but think of the message he had tried to convey to Sam in the pensieve - it was all about choices. But then, with angels pulling Dean from hell, and demons possibly pulling Sam into it... maybe Harry was too late on all accounts, maybe he was just trying in vain to fight against a prophecy that was already unfolding, unstoppable the way only prophecies were.  
  
"I won't be long," Sam said again, and walked out the door, ignoring Harry's question and Dean's stern "Sam!" that followed him out.  
  
Harry turned to Dean, not knowing what to say.  
  
"Call your wife, then meet me by the car," Dean ordered, grabbing his coat and keys and storming out the door.  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said to the empty room.  
  
*  
  
By the time Harry came out of the motel room, Dean wasn't quite sure if he had built himself into such a rage that he felt numb, or if he had calmed down and felt numb - either way, he could deal with numb.  
  
"Ginny says hello," Harry said, and gave him some strange half-smile. Dean smirked, remembering the look on Harry's face when he realized that Dean was chatting up his wife.  
  
"Next time you talk to her, be sure to give her my best," Dean drawled slowly, then straightened from where he was leaning against the hood and made to get into the car. "Do you play pool?"  
  
"Uh, no," Harry answered, and they both slipped into the Impala.  
  
"Well, I'm running low on cash, so I'm going to go see what games I can find. You can watch," Dean informed Harry. He watched Harry nod in acceptance, then mulled over what to say next, knowing that something had to be said.  
  
"Ruby... she's helped Sam before, when I was... well, she might know what they want with you," Dean said haltingly. "I'm sorry I didn't think of the time thing before. It's just..."  
  
"It's just that you've always had your family with you when hunting," Harry finished for him. "You forgot that I might want to get back to mine."   
  
Dean winced, but Harry wasn't angry, just understanding... and more importantly, he was right.  
  
"Yeah, well..." Dean started, focusing on the road. "When we were young, Dad used to go out alone and leave Sam and me behind. Then, when Sam got a little older, sometimes just Dad and I would go; it's just, it's been a while since those days."  
  
Dean saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye, and was thankful the wizard seemed to be accepting of the situation, or maybe just resigned to it.   
  
"Everything alright at home?" Dean asked.  
  
"My kids miss me," Harry said. "They're too young to worry though, which is nice, considering I couldn't answer my wife when she asked when I'd be back."  
  
Dean knew that was Harry's way of telling him that he was still a little pissed off.   
  
"Thankfully, Teddy's at school," Harry continued. "He always worries the most, but school should distract him."  
  
"Okay, man, I get it," Dean said, hunching his shoulders a little, feeling genuinely horrible. "You been taking lessons from Sam or something?"  
  
"Did I mention that both Teddy's parents were killed in the war?" Harry continued, as they pulled up to a red light. "I'm really the closest thing he has to a father. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like for him if I died..."  
  
Oh god, Dean thought, how much of this guilt-trip was he expected to take?  
  
"...it'd probably destroy the kid. He'd keep his hair black and face pale...write depressing poetry..."  
  
And that's when Dean clued in, whipping his head to glare at Harry in the passenger seat. Sure enough, Harry had what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face.  
  
"You fucking bastard!" Dean exclaimed. Harry laughed.  
  
"You should have seen your face!" Harry said.  
  
The car behind them honked and Dean was forced to bring his attention back to the road. He muttered a curse under his breath when Harry just laughed more. Dean found himself fighting to keep a small smile off his face, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction. They pulled up to the bar a moment later.   
  
"Okay, just follow my lead," Dean told Harry. Harry nodded.  
  
The place was the usual - dark, health-code-violating amount of dinge, slightly rougher looking crowd... definitely not a wine bar. There were darts and pool, and Dean could make money at either, but pool was always the safer bet... and there was Harry to consider.  
  
"Two shots of whiskey," Dean ordered at the bar. He handed over the money and knocked back the two shots as soon as they appeared. He turned to see Harry giving him the raised-eyebrow look.   
  
"What?" Dean said innocently. "Buy your own damn drink." But, despite his words, he turned to the back to the bartender and ordered two beers and handed one to Harry.  
  
"I can pay for them if you want," Harry told him.  
  
"Nah, gotta spend money to make money," Dean said. He spotted a free pool table in the back of the room. "Come on, I'ma teach you how to play."  
  
Dean racked up and let Harry break, giving him pointers here and there, but mostly just letting him figure it out. He purposefully missed many of his own shots to lengthen the game.  Harry was doing pretty well for his first time, and Dean made sure to tell him so, heaping on more praise than may actually have been deserved. When Harry missed, Dean would always assure him that it had been a hard shot, even the times it hadn't been. When he caught Harry blushing a bit, yet looking genuinely confused as to why Dean was being so complementary, Dean gave him a wink. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything.  
  
It all paid off when the guys at the table beside them finally fell for the bait, casually remarking that if Dean thought Harry was so good, maybe they should put a little money on a game. Dean made sure to order another beer for himself and let his speech drawl a little more than usual, not slur though, not yet.  
  
He let them play just Harry first. It looked like Harry was trying his hardest. Dean honestly couldn't tell if he actually was trying, or if he had clued into the  _real_  game but, whichever it was, it was exactly what Dean had hoped for. Harry lost somewhat spectacularly, and Dean made a show of being good-natured. He said that Harry had done a pretty good job for his first time out, and not to worry about the money... that Harry could buy Dean another beer to make up for it.  
  
"Man, it's too bad that was the last of my cash," Dean said in disappointment. "I bet I could have made that money back if I played you."   
  
The guys laughed, and once again Dean couldn't tell if Harry was just being himself, or if he had actually picked up the hint, but the next words out of his mouth were the ones Dean had been hoping for.  
  
"I could spot you the money," Harry said. "I mean, it's the least I could do..."  
  
"Ah man, you don't have to do that," Dean said.  
  
"No no, I don't mind," Harry said. "If these fellows are willing to give you a chance to win it back..."  
  
The guys all made an obvious show of pretending to consider it, even though Dean knew they were chomping at the bit to make more money off him and Harry.   
  
"Only..." Harry said, and Dean's attention whipped back to him, afraid that maybe he didn't know the real game being played afterall.  "Only, I'm not really good with exchange rates... I don't know... I mean... is four hundred too small to bet?"  
  
*  
  
"Dude! That was AWESOME!" Dean said as soon as the poor bastards had left the bar without a penny to their name.  
  
"I figured it was the only time in my life that I could play the part of the naive foreigner," Harry said with a smile.  
  
"Come on," Dean said, "let me buy you a shot."  
  
"No, thanks," Harry said.  
  
"Suit yourself," Dean said and ordered himself three more shots, knocking them back quickly. He made a point not to look at Harry after he placed the last empty glass back on the bar. "Let's go before those dudes decide to get their money back by force."  
  
There was a moment's pause, and then Harry said softly, "Maybe I should drive."  
  
Dean gave him a narrowed look, because he knew what Harry was suggesting. And he also knew that wizards didn't drive, since Harry had told him as much.  
  
"You don't even know how to drive," Dean said as they walked out into the damp night air. "Wizards don't drive."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm not most wizards," Harry said. "Come on, mate, I've been dying to drive your car ever since I saw it. It's only a couple of blocks and the streets are practically empty..."  
  
God, Harry could whine just like Sammy too, Dean thought.   
  
"Fine," Dean said, "but don't tell Sam, and I'm only letting you because you did that thing with the magic and I owe you one." That had sounded much better in Dean's head...maybe Harry  _should_  drive.  
  
Harry happily took the keys and slid into the driver's seat, carefully pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. They traveled for several minutes in silence.  
  
"You drive like an old lady," Dean said. "Guess I had nothing to worry about."  
  
"Oh, shut it," Harry said. "I said that I could drive, I didn't say that I drove  _often._ "  
  
"You bastard! I take it back, I'm driving!" Dean declared. Harry laughed.  
  
"Too late!" Harry said as he pulled into the motel parking lot, giving Dean an evil grin.  
  
*  
  
Harry was reading at the table when Sam finally walked in about two hours after Dean and Harry had gotten back from the bar. The lights were all off except for the small desk lamp, and Harry watched as Sam paused in the doorway and then shut the door softly behind him. Harry gave him a nod in greeting.  
  
"Did you walk or drive?" Sam asked in a whisper.  
  
"Drove," Harry answered, and watched the small line appear between Sam's eyebrows, before he added. "He let me drive, but I'm not supposed to tell you."  
  
Sam looked relieved at that, and that was enough confirmation for Harry.  
  
"He does it often then?" Harry whispered.  
  
"It's the dreams," Sam answered, and Harry just nodded in response. He figured there was no point in discussing it. All war veterans knew the symptoms. He glanced over at Dean, who was passed out on the bed and snoring softly.  
  
"Did you find out anything?" Harry asked, changing topics.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said in a breath. "We'll discuss it in the morning. I don't want to wake him."  
  
"Alright," Harry agreed, carefully placing the book down. "I'm going to bed, then."  
  
"Thanks," Sam said after a moment's pause, but Harry didn't respond, because he honestly wasn't sure what Sam was thanking him for.  
  
*  
  
The next morning broke early, just before sunrise, when Sam was startled awake by Dean's hitching breath.  
  
"Dean!" Sam said. "Wake up!"  
  
Thankfully, Dean did wake up, but so did Harry. Sam watched Harry fumble for his glasses beside his makeshift bed, while Dean calmed down.  
  
"Ruby know anything?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah," Sam answered, voice rough from sleep, knowing that sooner or later he would have to break this news - it might as well be at some ungodly hour of the morning with all of them working on far less than a full night's sleep.  
  
"Harry's a seal." 


	22. Chapter 22

"What?!" Harry asked, just as Dean said, "You have  _got_  to be kidding me."  
  
Sam didn't bother answering either one of them; he simply continued to stare up at the ceiling.  
  
"Why is it always me?" Harry muttered to no one in particular. Sam started laughing, and could hear Dean's soft chuckle from the bed beside him. He picked up his head and glanced over Dean at Harry, only to find him smiling softly. "You guys could be a little more sympathetic, you know..."  
  
"We really can't," Dean said with a shrug, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard.  
  
"Fair enough," Harry replied, returning the shrug and sitting up as well. "So, I'm a seal now? What does that mean? I can't ever die? Because, you know, I once killed a fellow who was trying for immortality, and I'd hate to be a hypocrite."  
  
"Ruby didn't know much, but she knew that we had pissed off the demons by protecting you... or, you protecting us," Sam explained, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. "And that the demons need you for something by the end of this week, that after that it'll be too late and they won't be able to try again for another 100 years or something. So, yeah, she figured Harry fit the bill for one of the seals."  
  
"Right," Harry said, "and do you mind telling me exactly how I 'fit the bill'?"  
  
"Um," Sam started eloquently, "they need to sacrifice a saviour."  
  
"Oh, good God," Harry erupted. "The demons too?! How many times do I have to tell people I'm not Jesus! I'm just a really unlucky guy."  
  
Sam was surprised by how angry Harry was. Harry was standing now, fists clenched. His hair was either a comical mess of bedhead, or maybe it was starting to do that thing it did when it blew off his forehead and... yeah, yeah, that's what it was doing alright.   
  
"Harry, man, calm down," Dean said softly. Sam actually kind of wanted to see how far it would go some time, but maybe it wasn't the best experiment to run in a cramped motel room. "We know you aren't a saviour, but you're probably the closest thing they have."  
  
The air stilled around Harry once again, and he seemed to slouch in on himself.   
  
"I'm going to have a shower," Harry said, and stalked off to the bathroom.  
  
"Uh, okay," Dean said, then yelled, "leave some hot water for the rest of us!"  
  
Harry's response was to poke his head back out of the bathroom with his shirt already in his hands and make a gesture towards Dean that Sam assumed must be rude in Britain, before he disappeared behind the door again.  
  
"Yeah, definitely not your standard saviour behaviour," Dean said, then returned his focus to Sam. "So, do you know when and where they need him?"  
  
"No," Sam said. "I don't, but I figured we could do some research. It must come up somewhere. Maybe we could call Bobby, or you could ask Castiel."  
  
Sam could see the sun coming up now through the curtains, and realized that they probably weren't going to be getting any more sleep tonight. He regretted staying out so late the night before, but it had taken a while to get what he needed out of Ruby. He started sorting through his duffle, picking out the clothes he would wear once he had his turn in the shower.  
  
"I just don't get it." Dean spoke up from his bed after a long silence. "You'd think Cas would have given us a heads-up about Harry being a seal."  
  
"What? Like he gave us a warning about the Witnesses, or Samhain? The only reason he was there for Samhain was because him and Uriel wanted to waste the town."  
  
"Yeah, I guess..." Dean said. "Do you think he might not know?"  
  
"Aren't angels supposed to know everything?" Sam asked. "I mean...at least when it comes to something this important."  
  
"I don't know," Dean said, shaking his head and looking at the crack of sunlight pouring in through the curtains. "You'd think if Harry were a seal, Cas would stop by and tell us to protect him or he'd throw me back in Hell."  
  
Sam bit his lip, the familiar anger at Castiel's old threat to Dean surging through him. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was possible to kill an angel.  
  
"What if he already knew I was with you, though?" Harry's voice suddenly said from behind Sam. He hadn't even realized that the shower had turned off. Oddly though, Harry was completely dry, but Sam  _had_  heard the shower at one point.   
  
"Didn't you shower?" Sam asked.  
  
Harry smiled at Sam. "I did. Do you want to check behind my ears or something?"  
  
Dean laughed, and Sam threw a glare at Harry. Harry and Dean had way more in common than just the eyes, apparently.  
  
"You're completely dry!" Sam said defensively. Harry reached into the pocket of his pajama pants and pulled out his wand.  
  
"Magic, remember?" Harry said with a smirk.  
  
"So, you think the angels know that you're with us?" Sam asked, hoping to divert attention away from himself.  
  
"Yeah, I do," Harry said, smile fading a little while he walked to his cot, and started rummaging through his bottomless bag.  
  
"What makes you so sure?" Dean asked.  
  
Harry gave a non-commital shrug, still pulling books and clothes out of his bag and didn't turn around as he spoke.  
  
"Well, he pulled you out of Hell, right?" Harry said. "I figure he has an invested interest in knowing what you are up to at any given time."  
  
Sam glanced at Dean, who didn't seem too pleased with what Harry was implying. Given their last run in with angels, Sam wasn't surprised.   
  
*  
  
When Sam was taking his turn in the shower, Harry started taking an inventory of his books. He was going to need more. He'd have to send Phil on some more library runs, but that would inevitably cause questions. He had been vague with his team so far. Most of them accepted the story of the Winchesters as enlightened Muggle friends, in need of a little extra protection. No one had seemed to doubt Harry's story, even though Harry knew how full of holes it was. As for Harry's increased absence from working with the team - well, they attributed that to his tendency to work alone anyway.   
  
He glanced over at Dean, wondering if he should have said that he had seen Castiel himself. But that would also lead to more questions - like why Castiel had appeared to him in the first place.  _'Well, you see, there's this horrible prophecy, but you and Sam are the only ones that can listen to it.'_ Harry imagined himself saying, ' _so we don't know how horrible it is really, but seeing as how the Seer went and offed himself quite dramatically...well, it's probably not a prophecy about a picnic in a park.'_  
  
And what did it mean anyway...The End. Maybe being the alpha and omega of the End meant that Sam and Dean would succeed in stopping the apocalypse... never mind the ominous warning of them being torn apart by heaven and hell... never mind that Sam was involved somehow with a demon already and Dean had the handprint of an angel burned into the skin on his shoulder.  
  
After Sam came back out of the shower, Dean headed in, already cursing them out for taking up all the hot water, before he even turned on the taps to check. Sam shook his wet hair like a dog in response.  
  
Harry picked up his wand and waved it vaguely in Sam's direction. The look on Sam's face as his hair suddenly dried was priceless. Especially since apparently Sam's hair was a lot fluffier if you dried it instantly instead of letting it dry on it's own.  
  
"Harry!" Sam said. "There's a reason I don't use hairdryers!"  
  
Harry just laughed, and so did Dean when he came out of the bathroom. Sam quickly darted back in to wet down his hair again.   
  
"He's a little vain, isn't he?" Harry said. Dean laughed again, but it was more at Sam's shout of 'oh fuck you!' than at Harry's remark.  
  
By the time they were all set and ready to go find a diner for breakfast, Harry was actually feeling pretty good, considering there were demons trying to kidnap him so that he could help bring about the apocalypse. Maybe they really could figure this thing out. Maybe he could be home by the end of the week like Ginny hoped he would be...like he had tried to convince her last night he would.   
  
Harry swung the motel door open, knowing that all he had to do was live through this week, then he could go home as if nothing had happened. As if there wasn't a looming apocalypse... he could go home and enjoy the time he had with his family - however long that happened to be. No one at home would have to know; he could keep it quiet and let them live worry free.  
  
The smile on Harry's face fell and was replaced with utter disbelief as soon as he stepped out the door.  
  
There, leaning against the hood of the Impala with a slightly stormy expression on his face, was Ron Weasley.  
  
"So it's true, then," Ron said, focusing in on Harry.  
  
"Uh, hi?" Harry said. "Ron, what the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Funny story that..." Ron replied, still giving Harry a slightly angry look. "I was at the shop yesterday, and you'll never guess who just walked through the door like he had every right in the world to be there..."  
  
Harry could tell that Dean and Sam were both confused and on edge, and he didn't really like the 'on edge' part. Ron didn't know that they were Hunters... unless, well Ginny may have told him. He needed to figure out why Ron was angry with him, what that had to do with the shop, and how to make sure Ron knew who Dean and Sam were without him causing a scene like Draco had.  
  
"Malfoy," Ron answered without prompting. Harry's swirling thoughts come to abrupt halt.  
  
"He didn't." Harry said in disbelief.   
  
"Yeah, well, that was my general reaction as well," Ron answered. "I just stared at him. Well, him and this huge bruise he had on his face."  
  
Harry could see Dean grimace in guilt out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy could have easily healed that bruise, so why had he just left it there?  
  
"So, he comes up to the counter... He's practically the only one in the store. George was in the back," Ron continued. "And so, I remember what you told me - don't deliberately antagonize him. Try to be polite... so I said, 'Malfoy' all very polite... and then I pointed to his face and asked him if people were still giving him a rough time about that whole Death Eater thing."  
  
"Ron..." Harry said exasperated. "That's not polite."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ron said with a smirk. "I could have said 'Get out of my store you git, I hope they hit you harder next time!'"  
  
Harry could feel Dean shift beside him. It wasn't a good shift. Ron seemed to catch it, and his smirk faltered into momentary confusion, before he cleared his throat and continued.  
  
"Anyway," Ron said. "This is where it gets interesting. Malfoy says, 'Actually, Weasley, I got this lovely souvenir from a trip to America that I took the other night.'"   
  
Ron did his best impersonation of Malfoy, drawl and all. Given the numerous years that Ron had had to practice the impersonation, it was actually spot on.  
  
"So," Ron continued, "I figure he's connected with the Dementors somehow, because that's all the press out of America is talking about, and why else would he be in the shop bragging to me about it? So, I ask him what the bloody hell he was doing in America and that I hope you gave him the bruise, because he's a git."  
  
"No, it was me." Dean suddenly spoke up from beside Harry. "So, I'd best watch yourself."  
  
Harry could see Ron's eyes linger on Dean a moment, then dart towards Sam. He visibly swallowed, and Harry had to admit, he was quite impressed at how well Ron was doing at not crumbling in front of the wall of intimidation that the Winchesters seemed to exude.  
  
"Yeah, well, that's what he said," Ron replied. "He said that he had been ' _asked_  by a  _mutual friend_  to  _lend a hand_  with a little  _hunting_  problem' - his words exactly. Now, I sure as hell do not have any mutual friend with Malfoy, Harry. So, yeah, I could put together what he was saying just fine."  
  
"I told him not to tell anyone," Harry found himself saying, the familiar feeling of being furious at Malfoy rising up within him. "What the hell was he doing telling you that!?"  
  
"Well, that's what I asked him," Ron said, "or rather George did, because by then he had come up from the back of the shop, and you know how he is with former Death Eaters."  
  
Harry sucked in a breath, and found himself dreading the next part of the story.  
  
"Malfoy apologized -  _apologized_  - to George for coming into the shop," Ron said, as though that was the most scandalous part of the story, but Harry recognized the fact that it was just something that had surprised him. Ron then stared meaningfully at Harry and continued, "Then Malfoy says that sometimes people just get in over their heads. Then he lays this necklace on the counter and tells me that if I ever find myself in America, I might like to wear it."  
  
At this, Ron reached underneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out the familiar amulet - the one they had forgotten to get back from Malfoy before he left.   
  
"I took it home to Hermione, after I made sure it wasn't cursed," Ron said. "She looked it up. Turns out it wards off demonic possession."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, and reached under his own shirt, freeing the similar amulet that he still wore around his neck. "I have one too."  
  
Ron was still glaring at Harry in anger and Harry was still furious and baffled at Malfoy's behaviour, but Dean and Sam seemed to relax a little when they saw the amulet around Ron's neck.  
  
"Ron-" Harry said, still wanting to know why Ron was there, but Ron cut him off.  
  
"So," Ron continued, "I'm thinking. Ok, Harry's run into some problem with demons. Fine. Whatever. He can handle himself. Except what confuses me is the fact that when you do put in a call for help, you apparently choose to call Malfoy, instead of your best mate!"  
  
"Wait..." Harry said slowly, suddenly realizing why Ron was so angry. "You're  _jealous_  because I called Malfoy instead of you?"   
  
"I'm not jealous!" Ron declared angrily. "I'm angry because whatever you're involved with is obviously more than you are letting on, and for some reason Malfoy knows all about it while your family is completely in the dark! Since when do you confide in Malfoy, Harry?! What the hell are you up to? Why didn't you ask me and Hermione to help?"  
  
"Ron, it's nothing," Harry tried placatingly. "Malfoy's making a big deal about nothing. I just asked him because I needed the help of an Unspeakable. The moment I need the help of an Auror-slash-jokeshop-assistant, or a lawyer, I'll call you and Hermione."  
  
By the way Ron's face was slowly turning red, Harry was beginning to think that last comment hadn't gone over as well as he had hoped.  
  
"It's not nothing, Harry!" Ron said harshly. "I talked to Ginny. She said you called at some ungodly hour just to ask how everyone was doing."  
  
Harry inwardly cursed himself, but tried not to show anything on his face.  
  
"I was um... homesick," Harry tried. Ron just continued to glare at him. "I missed you?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, now we know why you 'must not tell lies'," Dean said from beside him. "Apparently, you suck at them."  
  
"Dean, you aren't helping," Harry sighed.  
  
"And that's another thing," Ron said voice rising. "After I mentioned what Malfoy said to Ginny, she says that you told her  _days_  ago that you were with two Hunters. Did you not think that maybe that was something you should have included in your report to the office? I swear to God, Harry, after what Malfoy said I thought you were being Hunted."  
  
"Well, Malfoy wasn't supposed to say anything and Ginny-" Harry started to yell back.  
  
"Hey!" Sam yelled, and Harry and Ron both fell silent immediately. "Maybe we could move this conversation inside and use our quiet voices. You're going to attract attention."  
  
"Oh, right..." Harry said, then ran a hand through his hair. "Um, listen Ron, join us for breakfast. I'll explain everything."  
  
"Fine, but only if there's sausages," Ron answered angrily.  
  
*  
  
Sam sat across from Ron at the edge of the bench in the diner, with Dean and Harry taking the window seats. It was the only way neither wizards or Hunters would feel boxed in.  
  
Sam wasn't quite sure what to make of Harry's friend. He had recognized him from the memories he had seen, and he knew his name from the books he had read. He knew Ron Weasley had spent the war fighting alongside Harry and their other friend Hermione, whom he had subsequently married. Ron was taller than Harry - well, in fairness, everyone seemed to be taller than Harry - but Ron was nearly as tall as Dean. That red hair was something else. Sam figured it must be a wizard thing, because he had never seen hair quite as red as Ron's.  
  
He didn't know anything about Ron's personality, though. In truth, right now he was kind of reminding Sam of Dean - all righteous anger at Harry for not telling him that Harry might be in danger. He was also reminding Sam of Dean because he was drooling over the menu as though he hadn't eaten in three days.   
  
"Alright, then," Harry said, once they had placed their order. He took out his wand and cast the muffling spell that prickled the hair on the back of Sam's neck.   
  
"Ron," Harry said, "I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean, Sam, this is Ron Weasley - my best mate and brother-in-law."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Sam said.  
  
"Are you a... do you do what Harry does?" Dean asked, then added, "Catch bad wizards?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered on Ron's behalf, "he's actually my second in command back home."  
  
"I thought you said you worked in a shop," Sam interjected, a little confused. Ron smiled brightly.  
  
"I do," Ron said enthusiastically. "I co-own a joke shop with my brother, George. Though, I only work there a day or two a week." Ron then slung his arm over Harry's shoulder. "It helps that my boss is a co-owner of the joke-shop as well. Oh, and my best mate, of course."  
  
"Get off," Harry said, shrugging Ron's arm off his shoulders, but it was said with a smile. Ron removed his arm obediently and laughed, then seemed to catch himself and looked sternly at Harry again.  
  
"Speaking of best mates, do you mind telling me what the hell is going on over here?" Ron asked. "Your reports have been so boring, I've been wondering why you don't just come home. Then I find out that you're hanging around with Hunters! You didn't think that maybe  _that_  would have been important to mention in your report. You know what the protocol on Hunters is. You report them and then you stay the hell away from them... er, no offence, guys."  
  
Sam and Dean both shrugged.  
  
"Philsbeenwritingmyreports," Harry muttered quickly.  
  
Before Sam could ask Harry to repeat himself, Ron spoke up.  
  
"Please do not tell me..." Ron said, exasperated.  
  
"I've been busy," Harry defended himself.  
  
"Busy with Malfoy?" Ron asked. "Because that's what I want to hear about... never mind the Hunters, why the hell did you need an Unspeakable, and, for Merlin's sake, why choose  _Malfoy_ ?"  
  
"I needed to break into the American Department of Mysteries," Harry said, "and Malfoy owed me one."  
  
"Malfoy owes the world one for being born in the first place!" Ron added dismissively.  
  
"Watch it..." Dean said quietly, but Sam wasn't sure Ron heard him over Harry's enthusiastic reply.  
  
"Exactly! So I knew I could count on him to keep his mouth shut about it!"  
  
Ron scrubbed a hand through his hair, as the waitress came with a large tray balancing all their meals. They all waited until she was gone before speaking.  
  
"Ok, so far, you are secretly working with Hunters, breaking into secret Government departments, consorting with former Death Eaters, and worrying your family..." Ron stated. "I think you should start at the beginning, or I'm seriously going to have to start believing those rumours that you're barking mad."  
  
At that, Ron shoved an entire breakfast sausage in his mouth and chewed enthusiastically while making the 'come on, talk' hand gesture in Harry's direction.   
  
Harry took a deep breath and, indeed, started at the beginning. It was the abridged version, of course. Meeting the Winchesters when the Dementors attacked them - Ron gave Sam and Dean a sympathetic grimace at that fact. Harry finding out they were Hunters, but not wanting to leave them unprotected...so he researched and developed the permanent Patronus charm, then had to break into the Department of Mysteries in order to perform the spell - at that point Sam and Dean had to show Ron the silvery-blue animals on their ring and bracelet.   
  
"Oh 'Mione's going to want to see your notes on that!" Ron said around a mouthful of french fries. Ron ate like...well, Dean. It was slightly disgusting.  
  
Sam found himself looking between Ron and Dean and contemplating the way they both seemed to devour their food as if they hadn't eaten in days. He looked over at Harry to find Harry smiling at him as if he knew exactly what Sam was thinking.  
  
"So," Ron said once he had swallowed, "you gave the Winchesters their protection. Why not report their location like you were supposed to and leave?"  
  
"Well," Harry said, pushing the eggs around on his plate a little, "they're kind of helping me out now, because...well, it turns out the Dementors are probably here because of demons, and who better to help with demons than Hunters?"  
  
Sam watched as Ron's fair skin paled further.  
  
"So, there really are demons involved?" Ron said with a slight squeak.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "Turns out, umm... well, it turns out that there's... well, there's a possibility..."  
  
Harry was floundering, and Sam wasn't sure how to rescue him. Did they want to have another 'Sorry to tell you this, but it might be the Apocalypse' conversation? How the hell were they supposed to avoid it?  
  
"The demons are after Harry," Dean cut in abruptly. "Sam and I are protecting him."  
  
Ron turned his wide eyes towards Dean, while Harry winced.  
  
"Thanks, Dean," Harry said sarcastically.  
  
"You're a terrible liar, Harry," Dean responded. "I figured the truth would save us all a lot of trouble."  
  
"What?" Ron said. "How? Why? Demons?!"  
  
"It's alright," Sam tried to placate Ron. "We've got it covered. It'll all be over by the end of the week."  
  
"But  _why_ are there demons after Harry?" Ron asked insistently.  
  
Dean sighed, and looked at Sam imploringly.  
  
"Uh, right," Sam sighed. "Harry's sort of... well, he's a seal"  
  
Ron looked at Harry in confusion.  
  
"Looks like a human to me," he said slowly. Dean huffed a laugh.  
  
"Seals are like locks on a door," Sam launched into the familiar speech. "If the demons break enough of them, then... well, then it's the apocalypse."  
  
"Merlin!" Ron said.  
  
"Uh, okay," Sam said, not really understanding what King Arthur's legend had to do with anything. "In any case, Harry's a seal, so we have to prevent them from... well, breaking him."  
  
"And then the apocalypse won't happen?" Ron said.  
  
"Uh, well, yeah, sure..." Sam said, because hell, what did it matter what Ron believed. He caught Harry frowning at him, and he could feel Dean deliberately pretending as if he hadn't just heard that part of the conversation, but Sam really didn't care. They  _would_  prevent the apocalypse. They had to.  
  
"What did you tell them back home?" Harry asked suddenly, perhaps purposefully changing the subject. "I mean, they must know you're here. You didn't tell them about anything Malfoy said, did you?"  
  
"I just rearranged my off-days," Ron answered. "I said it was dull without you around, and that I'd pop over to America to say hello and then maybe take in some sights."  
  
"Ok," Harry said, "whatever you do, do  _not_ tell anyone, not even members of my team here, that Sam and Dean are Hunters. Actually, don't even tell them their names! Call them Sal and Dirk Windermere, and tell them that they are Muggles we met during the war."  
  
"You really are a terrible liar," Ron said with a laugh. "It's a good thing you're well-respected."  
  
"Thanks," Harry deadpanned, then grinned mischeivously. "Well, since you're here now. You can help us with research!"   
  
Ron groaned. "No thanks, I'll leave that to Hermione."  
  
Sam looked up in concern as Harry stilled and turned a wide-eyed stare at Ron.  
  
"She isn't..." Harry said. Ron beamed at him.  
  
"She'll be here in a couple of hours."


	23. Chapter 23

Apparently, Ron being less angry meant that he had more questions to ask. It was as though he hadn't even noticed the car on the way to the diner, being too focused on his anger at Harry. Now though, Dean was being bombarded by the stupidest of questions.  
  
"It's the same size on the inside as it is on the outside!" Ron had said when they got into the car. Dean wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he just shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking lot.   
  
"What does that knob do? Is that the wireless?" Ron asked from the back seat, a long arm coming between Dean and Sam to point to the dials on the radio.  
  
"The what?" Dean said. "That's the volume for the tape deck."  
  
"Tape deck? What's that?" Ron had followed up, at which point Harry groaned.  
  
"It's the wireless, Ron," Harry said in a tone that also said, 'now please shut-up.'  
  
"I drove a car once!" Ron told the car at large. "It was a flying car. Remember the Ford, Harry?"  
  
"How could I forget?" Harry replied. "You drove us into a tree."  
  
"Only because it ran out of petrol," Ron said, as though driving a car dry was a perfectly normal thing to do. Dean was already thinking that the guy was far too close to his Impala.  
  
"You ran out of petrol while we were  _flying_ , Ron," Harry said. "It's no wonder the car took off without us."  
  
Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as he couldn't help but picture Harry and Ron plummeting out of the sky in an old Ford, the ground hurtling toward them...  
  
"Dean," Sam said softly beside him, and Dean focused on the road just in time to pull into the motel parking lot.  
  
Harry and Ron were still talking in the back, Harry once again trying to convince Ron to just return to England.  
  
"I don't like this, Sam," Dean said softly. "Now we're going to have two more civilians to look out for."  
  
Harry and Ron were opening their doors and getting out of the back seat, both slamming the doors a little too hard as their argument about the degree of danger Harry was in escalated.  
  
"Ron's an Auror, like Harry," Sam said. "We know that Harry can handle himself in a fight, and Ron has had the same training and fought in the same war. Hermoine Granger-Weasley also fought in the war. They aren't civilians."  
  
"They also aren't Hunters," Dean replied, and then got out of the car. Harry and Ron had already gotten the motel room door open. How they had done it without having the keys, Dean didn't care to ask.  
  
"Who's looking after your kids?!" Harry was asking Ron.  
  
"Hermione's parents," Ron replied. "We've got it all sorted, Harry. You aren't getting rid of us."  
  
"But you don't  _both_  have to be here!" Harry said. "What if something happens to you?! Your kids will grow up without their parents. We already have enough orphans in this family!"  
  
"Oh, so you admit that it's dangerous here!" Ron exclaimed, completely ignoring the rest of Harry's complaint.  
  
"Yes, but I don't need your help!" Harry replied.  
  
"That's enough!" Dean said, and both Ron and Harry fell silent. Ron looked nervously at Dean and Sam, while Harry looked somewhat relieved that someone had put an end to the conversation.  
  
"We're dealing with demons, which means that Sam and I are in charge," Dean continued. "You and your wife can help with the research, but when it comes to a fight...  _if_  it comes to a fight... and we tell you to sit on the goddamn sidelines, you will sit on the goddamn sidelines. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Ron replied. Dean smiled as Ron's eyes widened at the realization of what he had just said.  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry echoed, but this time it wasn't a reflexive response. Harry was actually just deferring authority to him. For some reason that actually made Dean uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it. Harry was trying to show Ron that Dean and Sam really  _were_  the authority, and, really, Dean should be thankful for that.  
  
"Do you want to continue to follow your team, Harry?" Sam asked. "Because I'm thinking it might be better to stay in one place until we figure out exactly what's going on."  
  
"Right," Harry answered. "Let me check in with them, and I'll let you know. Most likely they'll be fine without me. Besides the uh... 'attack'... on you two, the Dementors have been relatively docile. Mind if I use the bathroom to make the call to Deacon and Phil?"  
  
"Knock yourself out," Dean said with a wave of his hand.   
  
Once Harry had disappeared into the bathroom, Dean realized that Ron was standing around as if he didn't know what to do with himself now that Harry wasn't in the room. Actually, now that Dean thought about it, Ron had mostly ignored him and Sam since he had arrived.   
  
"Might as well sit down," Dean said. Ron looked at the two unmade beds uncertainly, and then sat down at the very end of Sam's extra long bed.  
  
"So, you've known Harry since school, right?" Sam asked, in his 'I'm harmless and friendly' tone of voice.  
  
"Yeah, since we were eleven," Ron answered. "He's my best mate."  
  
Dean nodded absentmindedly, picking up the duffle of weapons and upending it on his bed. He needed to take inventory. If they were only dealing with demons, then all these guns would be useless and all he would really need was the knife, but it never hurt to double check his supply of silver and iron bullets, just in case.  
  
"Um..." Ron said. "So... I thought... well... the stories..."  
  
Dean looked up at Ron curiously.   
  
"It's just..." Ron continued. "Shouldn't you be trying to kill us?"  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow at that and glanced at Sam, who looked concerned rather than confused.  
  
"Should we be?" Dean asked slowly. Ron paled slightly.  
  
"No!" he said. "It's just that the stories..."  
  
"What stories?" Sam asked.  
  
"Oh, um, well, there's  _Hector Henderson and the Horrible Hunters_  and then there's  _Maddy and the Mad Muggles_ ...you know, bedtime stories," Ron replied, as if that answered everything.   
  
"You have bedtime stories about Hunters?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, "and they're always trying to kill wizards."  
  
"So," Sam said slowly, "hunters are the wizard-version of the Big Bad Wolf?"  
  
"The what?" Ron asked. "Like werewolves?"  
  
"Never mind," Dean said. "Listen, Harry explained everything to us. We aren't going to kill you, because as far as we can tell, you guys aren't evil - you're just a bunch of freaks. So, as long as you don't go around killing people, we're good. Understand?"  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, as Ron nodded vigorously.  
  
"Are those guns?" Ron asked, interrupting whatever Sam was about to get on Dean's case about.  
  
"Yes," Dean said slowly, wondering if maybe Ron was blind.  
  
"I know about guns!" Ron said. "Hermione showed me some Muggle movies. I've never seen one in person before. Can I touch them?"  
  
Dean picked up his spare handgun, double checked that it wasn't loaded, even though he knew full well it wasn't, and then handed it to Ron... who promptly looked down the barrel and pulled the trigger.  
  
Dean looked over at Sam in complete disbelief, only to find Sam looking much the same.  
  
"Can you shoot ghosts?" Ron asked, clicking the safety on an off as though he didn't know what it did. "Because, I mean, you can walk right through them, and they can walk through walls... so what's a bullet going to hit?" Then Ron's eyes lit up a little. "Do you have bullets?! Can I see those too?!"  
  
"No!" Dean said, wide-eyed. "There is no way in hell I'm giving you a gun  _and_  a bullet."  
  
Ron looked confused and then slightly disappointed.  
  
"And no," Sam answered, "you can't shoot ghosts with bullets. You can hit them with salt, though, or iron - so we make special bullets for them."  
  
"How long have you guys been Hunters?" Ron asked, mesmerized by the fact that he had found the empty bullet chamber.  
  
"All our lives," Dean answered. Ron nodded absentmindedly.  
  
"I take it wizards don't have guns," Sam said, slowly, "or even know anything about them."  
  
"No," Ron said, putting the safety on and pulling the trigger, then taking the safety off and pulling the trigger. "My Dad wanted to take one apart once, but my Mum wouldn't let him. My Dad likes taking Muggle things apart and putting them back together."  
  
"Mm-hm, your Mom is a smart lady," Dean said. "How 'bout I take that gun back now."  
  
Just then Harry exited the bathroom. Dean watched as Ron turned on his heel to enthusiastically show Harry the gun.  
  
"Fucking hell!" Harry said as he immediately dropped to the ground. Ron looked confused, but Dean and Sam were laughing.  
  
"Nice reflexes, Harry," Dean said, "but what do you take us for? There is no way we'd have given him a loaded gun."  
  
Harry picked himself up off the floor and scowled at them. Ron rolled his eyes and handed the gun back to Dean - muzzle first.  
  
"What were you saying about them not being civilians, Sam?" Dean said quietly to his brother.  
  
"Yeah, well, guns are useless against demons, anyway, unless it's The Colt," Sam responded.  
  
"The Dementors are in Philadelphia," Harry said. "They're probably making a few people miserable, but they aren't outright attacking. My team has it covered. I told them I'd be investigating more leads today."  
  
"Ok," Dean said. "We need to figure out exactly where and when they need you. We're in the defensive position, and it'd be good to know when the attacks will be the strongest."  
  
"We should take him to Bobby's," Sam said. "Put him in the panic room."  
  
Dean shook his head. "I don't want to bring that kind of trouble to Bobby's doorstep if I don't have to. Besides, they'd find a way to draw him out, I think. Kill his friends... like they did with Dad."  
  
Sam nodded, but didn't look happy about the decision. Harry and Ron looked vaguely horrified, but not surprised. Dean knew from what Harry had told him in the memory-bowl that Harry had been tricked similarly before.  
  
They decided to wait until this Hermione girl arrived, before they got into giving Ron the crash course in demonology. There was no sense repeating themselves. So, Harry and Ron started talking about politics back home, most of which either sounded as boring as regular human politics, or sounded far too ridiculous to be real.   
  
Dean and Sam took an inventory of the books they already had, and started compiling a list of other sources that they could try to get Phil to track down for them. Sam got on the laptop to see if there were any online sources, but Dean was sure they had exhausted those days ago, and it was always annoying to wade through all the deluded websites before you found the useful ones.  
  
While they worked, Dean took stock of Harry's friend. Unlike Phil, he seemed to have warmed up to them fairly fast. Well, maybe 'warmed up' was the wrong term, but he seemed to trust them for the simple reason that Harry trusted them. Dean still caught him shooting them wary glances every once in a while, though. The guy laughed loudly and smiled often, told jokes about people at the office or politicians that even Dean found himself chuckling at.   
  
Dean had never had a friend like that, just Sammy, but he figured Sammy counted. Actually, with Harry being an orphan, and Ron being his brother-in-law, Dean figured that Ron probably counted as a brother, and yeah... that explained why he was so pissed off when they met him that morning. Dean would kill Sam if he ever went overseas and got into trouble and didn't call him for help. Actually, Dean would just kill Sam if he ever went overseas, because that would mean he would have to get on a plane in order to save his stupid ass.  
  
Just as Sam and Dean had compiled their wishlist of books, there was a knock on the door. Harry got up from where he was lounging on Sam's bed talking to Ron, but Dean motioned him back down. Sam eased a hand towards the Knife, while Dean put a hand on the grip of his handgun at his hip. He looked through the peephole first. Interesting.  
  
He nodded to Sam, and then opened the door wide enough to lean up against the jam casually, blocking the room from sight with his body. He gave their visitor a long look up and down, with a flirtatious grin on his face.  
  
"May I help you?" Dean asked. He was rewarded with a faint blush.  
  
"Well," she said briskly, "Ginny certainly wasn't lying about you."  
  
Dean smiled. "All good things I hope."  
  
Another smile and a blush, though Dean could tell she was trying desperately not to show it.   
  
"My name is Hermione," she said. "I was told that Harry was traveling with you. My husband should be here as well."  
  
"Dean," he replied, opening the door, so that she could enter. "That's my brother Sam." He pointed to where Sam stood trying to casually drop the knife back on the table.   
  
"Oh my," Hermione said, then seemed to catch herself. "Nice to meet you. I'm Hermione Granger."  
  
"Weasley," Ron said sharply.  
  
"Hermione Granger-Weasley," Hermione corrected.  
  
"I read about you in the books," Sam said. "It's a pleasure."  
  
"All mine," Hermione replied politely. "I must say, I've never actually met any Hunters before, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on the categorization of relative-evils and how they might relate to a more studied application of threat-reduction and elimination."  
  
Dean was pretty sure he didn't want to understand the last part of that sentence but, by the look in Sam's eyes, he was going to have to remind him that this woman was married.  
  
"Okay," Dean said, drawing out the two syllables. "How about we bring Hermione up to speed?"  
  
"Right," Ron said, then took a deep breath. "Honey, it's the apocalypse."  
  
"It's the _what?!_ "   
  
The next hour or more was spent filling Hermione in on everything Harry had told Ron that morning over breakfast - how Harry had met Sam and Dean; how he had decided not to follow the standard protocol when it came to Hunters, because they needed his protection; and how Harry had developed the spell to give the them permanent semi-unsupported Patronuses.   
  
At this point, Hermione gave Harry a very stern lecture on practicing experimental magic. Dean gave Sam a quick glance to confirm that he was on the same page as Dean - they were  _not_  going to get Harry in more trouble by telling Hermione how much the spell had drained him. Not only did Dean remember how pale Harry had been, he also remembered Draco making them swear not to tell anyone about whatever he had done to save Harry. So, when Hermione narrowed her eyes at them, both Sam and Dean just shrugged innocently and said they had no idea it had been dangerous, because Harry had made it look so easy.   
  
Of course, Dean knew that Harry wasn't telling them everything. He had put it together that at some point in Boston, Harry had found out Sam's secret. He figured Sam had lied to him about using the Latin on Phil. It wasn't just that Sam wasn't that great a liar, it was also because ever since then Harry's curiosity over Sam wasn't as sharp as it had been before... and, if anything, what had happened in the chamber with Sam's Patronus should have piqued Harry's interest, not satisfied it.   
  
Dean guessed he should feel relieved, since Harry's behaviour towards Sam hadn't changed at all, and so far he hadn't shared the information with his friends, nor backtracked on his word that he wouldn't report them to his government.   
  
"And that's why you should go home, Hermione," Harry was saying, as Dean focused his attention back on the conversation. "The Winchesters and I have everything under control. I appreciate you guys wanting to help, but really, we'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about."  
  
"What on earth are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione replied, bewildered. "You've just told me that there are hordes of demons out there wanting to sacrifice you, in order to unleash Lucifer, and you want me to go  _home_?!"  
  
"Please?" Harry tried.  
  
"Harry..." Hermione said, in a patient tone, and Dean suddenly realized that she sounded a lot like Sam. "I thought we broke you of this habit during the War... why do you really want us to go home?"  
  
"Because Ginny is going to KILL ME!" Harry exclaimed, standing up and pacing. "I promised her that I wouldn't leave her at home again to run off with you two to save the world!"  
  
"So you think saving it alone is a loop-hole in that promise?" Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.  
  
"Hey," Sam said. "Harry isn't alone."  
  
"Exactly!" Harry said. "So,  _go home!_ "  
  
"No," Ron said. "You aren't doing this alone!"  
  
"Yes, I am!"  
  
"No, you aren't," Dean said, and felt four sets of eyes swivel towards him. "Harry isn't saving the world at all," Dean clarified. "He's going to sit in a circle of salt for a few days; then, once he's not useful to them any more, the demons are going to leave him alone. He's going to go back to England and return to his wife and family, and that will be the end of it."  
  
There was silence for a few seconds, and then Sam spoke. "Dean's right. We've got this covered. You guys don't need to worry about anything."  
  
"We'll help keep him safe then," Hermione said softly. "It's the least we can do."  
  
"You know what the most you can do is?" Harry said. "You can go home so that Ginny doesn't divorce me."  
  
"Ginny's not going to divorce you, Harry," Hermione said, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that Harry was delusional. "Besides, I talked to her before I left. She's fine with staying behind, on one condition."  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow, curious. Harry stilled and grimaced in anticipation.  
  
"Which is?" Harry prompted when Hermione fell silent.  
  
"You must invite Dean and Sam for a visit. She'd very much like to meet Dean in person, since they got on so well over the mirror." Hermione smiled a very wicked smile, that made Dean smile back in kind.  
  
"I'd be delighted," Dean said in a low tone, and both Harry and Sam groaned in unison, while Ron's eyes widened and his face turned red.  
  
"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Hermione said. "Calm down"  
  
"She's my little sister!" Ron exclaimed. Harry groaned again.  
  
"Fine," Harry said. "Just... Dean and Sam are in charge, so do as they say."  
  
Both Hermione and Ron looked surprised at this; they shot each other a look, but then nodded their agreement. Dean thought back to what he had read about Harry, and realized that the guy probably never willingly made himself subordinate to anyone. Except maybe that Dumble-dude, whom Harry had named an army after.  
  
"Alright," Hermione said, turning to Sam and Dean. "What's our first order of business then?"  
  
"Right," Dean said. "Uh, we have to figure out exactly what they need Harry for, so first thing to do is research."   
  
"Where are the books?" Hermione asked, opening up a small change purse and pulling out a long feathered pen and roll of - was that parchment? Dean thought Harry's shoulder bag was weird, but at least the opening was the right size to fit the stuff he had in there. When Hermione pulled things out of her change purse, Dean could see them warp back into their original shape at the lip.  
  
"We've got some of them," Sam said, pointing to a stack that he and Dean had piled on the small table, "and we've made a list of others that we were hoping you guys might be able to find at your library. We also need to call our friend, Bobby. He'll have more."  
  
"Right," Hermione said. "Ron and I will just get started on these then."  
  
"Aww, come on, love... you know I hate research," Ron whined.  
  
"Well, if you aren't going to be useful, maybe you'd like to go home," Hermione said. Ron grumbled, but stalked over to the table obediently. Dean would have laughed at how whipped the guy was, but he was starting to think that he wouldn't fare much better if he were married to the woman.  
  
Dean pulled out his cellphone and called Bobby, who picked up on the third ring.  
  
"Bobby? It's Dean." Dean greeted.  
  
"What've you gotten yourselves into now?" Bobby asked gruffly.  
  
"Uh, possible seal, actually," Dean answered. "Sam and I are trying to prevent it from breaking, but we could use a bit more information."  
  
"The angels aren't talking?" Bobby asked, and Dean could hear him shifting books around.  
  
"Quiet so far," Dean answered. "We were wondering if you could lend us a hand on the research."  
  
"How far away are you?" Bobby asked. "Can you come pick up the books yourself?"  
  
"Outside Washington, and it might not be safe for us to move that far, so no," Dean answered. "We were hoping we could do this over the phone."  
  
"I've got a Black Dog a state over that's been picking off children," Bobby said sadly. "I was just heading out the door."  
  
"Can't you call someone else in?" Dean asked, shooting a worried glance towards Sam.  
  
"You know my back-up was Jim Murphy, Dean," Bobby said. "These days it's hard to trust just anyone to get the job done."  
  
"Shit, yeah, ok," Dean said. Harry and his friends were staring at Dean now. Dean sighed. Bobby could loan them the books, but it what did that matter if there was no way of getting them from South Dakota to Washington. It wasn't like Dean had a teleporter.  
  
"Uh... Bobby?" Dean said, interrupting Bobby's third apology.   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm going to send someone to get the books, okay," Dean said. "Could you just pick out the ones you think we'll need?"  
  
"Sure, but Dean?" Bobby said, in confusion. "Who're you sending? And how long is it going to take them to get here? I have to go and these aren't the kind of books you just leave on the porch."  
  
 "I'm sending a pretty girl," Dean said, smiling at Hermione. "You'll love her. She'll be there in ten minutes."  
  
"Ten minutes?" Bobby asked. "Dean, please don't tell me you're sending that demon to my house."  
  
"No, Bobby," Dean said, "you can even test her. So, be nice." Dean could already hear Bobby getting out the shot glass. "Thanks, Bobby."  
  
Dean hung up the phone and smiled at Hermione. Ron looked a little concerned and kept shooting nervous glances between Dean and Hermione, and then beseeching glances at Harry, but Harry just raised his hands in surrender. Dean grabbed the road map, and spread it out in front of Hermione on the table.  
  
"How much information do you need to teleport somewhere?" Dean asked.  
  
"Tele-what?" Ron asked.  
  
"Looking at a map will be sufficient," Hermione answered, ignoring Ron's question, "and a general description of my arrival point would help."  
  
"Okay, good," Dean answered, pointing out Sioux Falls on the map. "Our friend Bobby lives on this country road here." Dean indicated a grayed line. "He runs a business called Singer Auto Salvage; if you teleport to the end of his drive, you'll see a metal sign made out of old car parts that says that. It'll be a dirt road. His property is lined with old broken cars - some are in stacks. The house has seen better days."  
  
"Ok, and what's this about a test?" Hermione asked. "What's the topic?"  
  
"Whether or not you're a demon," Sam answered with a laugh. "You don't need to study for it."  
  
"How..." Hermione started to ask, as Dean rummaged through his duffle and pulled out another amulet.   
  
"First, wear this so he can see it," Dean said, handing her the amulet. "That will probably be enough, but he might still offer you a glass of water. Drink it."  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"Um, I'm going to give you my duffle for the books," Dean said. "We'll explain to Bobby about good witches later, but for now it might be good to keep that a secret."  
  
"And when I arrive without a car?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Hopefully he won't notice," Dean said, "but if he does, just tell him that we'll explain everything after he gets the Black Dog, because children should be a priority. Use those words exactly."  
  
Dean emptied his duffle completely and gave it Hermione. She took one more look at the map, kissed Ron on the cheek, smiled at Harry, and then turned and disappeared.


	24. Interlude

Bobby hung up at the sound of the dial-tone - ' _Sending someone?!_ ' Bobby was pretty sure there were only two people in the world who Dean was friends with, and neither himself nor Sam could be described as pretty girls. Who the hell was that idiot sending?  
  
Whoever it was, they were getting a glass of holy water for their troubles. Bobby set the water on the kitchen table, and then went to his desk to pull out all the books Dean might need. Bobby had been collecting apocalyptic texts ever since the damn Rising of the Witnesses.  
  
He had just added the last book to the stack when he heard the soft knock on the door. Bobby had to admit, he was pretty damn curious. He opened the door to find a slim young woman. And yeah, she was pretty, he'd give Dean that. She wasn't his usual type though, mainly because there was a wedding ring on her finger.  
  
"Bobby Singer?" the young lady asked, presenting her hand for him to shake. "My name is Hermione. Dean Winchester sent me for some books."  
  
"Come on in," Bobby said, shaking her hand and then holding the door wider. A British accent - Bobby was even more curious now. She had an amulet around her neck, and for a moment Bobby debated offering the water. Then again, maybe she was thirsty. It'd been a while since he had a female in his house. Suddenly, he was a little self-conscious about the state of the place. It didn't help that he had weaponry laid out all over the kitchen table. He really did need to pack up and go hunt that Black Dog, though.  
  
"Would you like a glass of water?" Bobby asked, picking up the glass he had already poured.   
  
"Yes, thank you," Hermione responded, and there was something in her tone of voice that told Bobby that Dean had most likely warned her about the holy water test. Sure enough, Hermione looked curiously at the glass, then made eye contact with Bobby as she drank it.   
  
Bobby gave her a smile and took back the empty glass.  
  
"He told you about that, didn't he?" Bobby said. Hermione smiled. "Well, thanks for indulging me. With the amulet on, I really didn't need the holy water test."  
  
"Is that what that was?" Hermione said. "Dean just told me to drink the water. I must admit, I don't know very much about demons."  
  
"So, you ain't a Hunter then," Bobby concluded aloud, still wondering who she was and how Dean knew her. Bobby figured by now he knew almost everything about that kid. "How does Dean know you?"  
  
"He's protecting a friend of mine," Hermione answered.  
  
Bobby frowned. Dean had said they had a possible seal. If he was protecting a friend of Hermione's...  
  
"I'll throw in a couple of basic demonology books," Bobby told Hermione, walking towards his desk, which was, as usual, buried in and surrounded by books. Hermione followed him, but paused in the doorway. Bobby glanced up at her as he moved a stack of books out of his way so that he could get at the ones on the book shelf. She was standing with her mouth slightly agape, staring at the mess of books.  
  
"Uh, sorry about the mess," Bobby said, "I don't usually have company, 'cept the boys."  
  
Hermione ran her hand over the nearest stack of books. "Are these all sorted?"  
  
"I have a system, yeah, believe it or not," Bobby said. "I just ran out of book shelves... years ago."  
  
"These seem quite old and rare," Hermione stated.  
  
"Most of my books are," Bobby replied, pulling three demonology books off the shelf. "Which is why you better remind those boys that I want them back, and not to get crumbs in them."  
  
"They wouldn't!" Hermione said, scandalized. Bobby laughed, realizing that Hermione hadn't been surprised at the mess of his house, she had been in awe of his book collection.  
  
"They would and they have," Bobby replied. "You should have seen the state of the books I had loaned Sam when Dean was..." Bobby cut himself off. "Uh, well, can't say I blame them. Some things can't be helped. You got a bag for these?"  
  
Hermione held out the black duffle bag she had been holding loosely at her side the whole time. Bobby took it and started filling it with the stack of books.   
  
"I'll put the basic demonology texts on top," Bobby explained. "The boys could probably recite you their contents, but I have a feeling you're the type to want to read things for yourself."   
  
He was rewarded with a smile. He zipped up the duffle for her, and then paused. He recognized this duffle.   
  
"Let me finish throwing my weapons in my bag, and I'll carry these out to your car for you," Bobby said, keeping the smile on his face.  
  
"Oh, no, that's okay," the girl said sweetly. "I can manage."  
  
"It's pretty heavy," Bobby replied.  
  
"I'm stronger than I look," Hermione replied, walking over and taking the duffle from Bobby.  
  
"I never heard a car pull up," Bobby stated. "You just suddenly knocked on the door."  
  
"I parked on the road and walked in," Hermione answered, "and I'd best be off. It was nice meeting you."  
  
"That's Dean's duffle," Bobby said. "He's had it for years. When he was 16 the seam split, and when he sewed it back together he wrote 'DEAN RULES' with the stitches."  
  
"He lent it to me," Hermione stated, looking down at the seam by the zipper.  
  
"What are you?" Bobby asked. Dean had said he hadn't heard from the angels. Hermione sighed.  
  
"Dean told me to tell you that he and Sam would explain everything after you get the Black Dog," she answered evenly, "because children should be a priority."  
  
Bobby tried to hide his surprise - leave it to Dean to remember exactly what Bobby had said to John the last time he ever saw the guy alive. Yeah, Dean had remembered that Bobby had threatened to fill John with buckshot, and had even cocked the gun, but Bobby didn't think he had remembered what he had yelled while he did it.  
  
"Alright, then," Bobby said. "You tell those boys that I'll be waiting for that explanation."  
  
Hermione gave him a relieved smile. "I will."  
  
She paused, tightening the bag in her grip and testing its weight a little.  
  
"Do you mind if I leave from here?" she asked. "Since you already know that I don't have a car."  
  
Bobby nodded, "Actually, I think I'd prefer it."  
  
"Thanks," Hermione said. "I'll make sure they look after your books. It was nice to meet you."  
  
Then she turned as if to leave and was gone. Bobby stared numbly at the spot on the floor that had just held a person.   
  
"What the hell have you boys gotten yourselves into?" Bobby wondered to the open room, then gathered up the last of his weaponry and locked the door behind him as he left.


	25. Chapter 25

"I should have gone with her," Ron said as soon as Hermione disappeared.  
  
"Don't worry," Dean answered. "Bobby won't hurt her. He'll give her a glass of water and the books, and she'll be back here in ten minutes, max."  
  
"One of us could have gone with her," Sam spoke up.   
  
"I just ate breakfast, Sam," Dean replied. "I do not want to experience it in reverse."  
  
"I could have gone, then," Sam said. "I don't mind it."  
  
"No," Dean and Harry said at the same time. Both Dean and Sam looked at Harry in surprise. Harry just leveled a meaningful look at Sam and shook his head again. "She might have splinched you."  
  
"Hermione's perfectly capable of side-along," Ron said, and Dean could tell that he was getting offended on Hermione's behalf. "She only splinched me that one time because we were being attacked! You've never held that against her before."  
  
"Right, sorry," Harry said, trying to dismiss the conversation.  
  
"What's splinching anyway?" Dean asked, hoping it was enough to steer the conversation away from why Sam was different.  
  
"It's when you apparate and accidentally leave part of yourself - or someone else - behind," Harry answered with a wince, and all of Dean's thoughts derailed.  
  
Sam was staring at Harry with wide eyes. Dean carefully ran Harry's answer over in his head, making sure he had heard right.  
  
"So, you're saying..." Dean started slowly, "when you took us up to Boston, there was a possibility that you might have accidentally left an arm or a leg back in North Carolina?"  
  
"Experienced wizards rarely splinch people, Dean," Harry replied, but all Dean heard was 'yes'.   
  
"Which is why I don't understand why you suddenly don't have confidence in Hermione's abilities," Ron said. "You know she's just as good a wizard, if not better, than you are."  
  
"Well, it doesn't matter what her abilities are, no one is splinching me or my brother!" Dean said.  
  
"Understood," Harry said placatingly.  
  
Then they all stood around silently for a few seconds, until Sam breathed out audibly.  
  
"Okay, awkward," Sam muttered. "So, um, what kind of stuff does your shop sell?"  
  
Dean watched as Ron smiled brightly, and reached into his pocket. Ron turned to Sam, but then seemed to change his mind.  
  
"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "have a candy!" and he tossed a small toffee towards Harry, who caught it easily, then walked a little bit away from the rest of them. He unwrapped the candy and put it into his mouth with a smile to Ron - and then he turned into a giant canary.  
  
"Holy shit!" Sam said, and then he and Dean were laughing too much to say anything.   
  
There was a popping noise and suddenly Hermione was back in the room, carrying a very full duffle bag. She looked over at Harry and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, honestly, boys," she said. "Can't I leave for a few minutes without you turning each other into canaries?!"  
  
Harry suddenly turned back into himself, a few yellow feathers still stuck in his hair. He was laughing too.   
  
"Completely worth it," Harry said. "So, no problems getting the books, I see."  
  
"No, it was exactly as Dean said," Hermione confirmed.  "Though, he spotted the lack of car - so I'm afraid you two have some explaining to do later on."  
  
Dean waved a hand dismissively, "We would've told him anyway."  
  
"He included a few basic demonology texts, so that Ron and I could brush up," Hermione added.  
  
"Awesome," Dean said. "Let's see what we've got."  
  
* *  
  
They divided up the books according to knowledge base, leaving the more basic books to the wizards, while Dean and Sam studied the more advanced archaic texts. The wizards expanded the table and cloned the two chairs until there was room enough for everyone to sit down. Dean was explaining the different uses of hex-bags to Harry and Ron, surprisingly unironically, and Sam was just starting in on his third book when Hermione suddenly leaned over from where she sat beside him and gasped.  
  
"You read Latin?" she whispered. It reminded Sam of how his college friends had been so surprised when he could understand the law terminology so well.   
  
"Um, yeah," Sam said. "Dean does too."  
  
Hermione shot a look at Dean, as though she was looking at an alien. Sam laughed.  
  
"I know he doesn't look it," Sam said, "but he's actually really smart." Then Sam dropped his voice even softer. "Though, between you and me, I'm much better at Latin." Hermione laughed softly.  
  
"Don't listen to him, Hermione," Dean said from across the table. "Just because he went to Stanford, doesn't mean he's the brains of the operation."  
  
"You went to Stanford?" Hermione asked, amazed. Dean groaned, but Sam could tell that it was for show by the small smile playing at Dean's lips.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Sam said. "I was pre-law."  
  
"Pre-law!" Hermione repeated. "I'm basically the magical equivalent of a lawyer, you know? I work for...um, well, I guess it's the Magical equivalent of your Justice Department. Uh, I work on, umm...the Magical equivalent of Human Rights."  
  
"Wizard Rights?" Sam guessed.  
  
"More like Minority Rights," Hermione amended. "The rights of Magical Creatures."  
  
Sam swallowed, and could sense Dean stilling and focusing his attention back on their conversation. "Uh... what kind of magical creatures?"  
   
"House-elves, Centaurs, Werewolves, Vampires..." Hermione began to list, and Sam caught Dean's eyes in concern.  
  
"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "take a moment and remember to whom you are speaking, please."  
  
Hermione fell silent, confused, before her eyes widened in realization.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't mean to suggest... I mean, I  _know_  what Hunters do... you must understand, I wasn't making judgments. It's different for wizards. Oh dear. I'm sorry..."  
  
"Shh, love," Ron said, and it was the first time that Sam had heard him be tender with Hermione. He was surprised to feel a small spark of jealousy, even though he had long since said goodbye to having that life. "I'm sure the Winchesters understand."  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "don't worry about it. Um, so, where did you go to school?"  
  
Hermione looked relieved. "It's different for us. I went to Hogwarts until I was 18 - well, 19, because of the War - then I just worked my way up from there. In the Wizarding world, you don't really specialize in school. Why didn't you become a lawyer?"  
  
"Herm-"  
  
"My girlfriend was murdered by the demon that killed our mother," Sam answered. "School didn't seem as important anymore."  
  
"You were still planning to eventually go back, though," Dean said, "back then."  
  
"Maybe, but not after Dad died," Sam replied, "and now we have bigger problems, and I'm officially dead, so I'd have to do everything over again... and that's just not my life anymore."  
  
"And you say that  _I_ have a talent for putting my foot in it," Ron stage-whispered to Hermione, who, Sam realized, looked horrified. Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh. Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't look like he was going to be coming to Sam's rescue on this one.  
  
"Actually," Sam said with forced enthusiasm, quickly switching topics, "Hunters usually have to learn a variety of languages. Latin, Sanskrit, Hebrew, Aramaic... Bobby knows Japanese. How about you guys? I mean, I know your incantations are based off the Latin, anyone could hear that."  
  
"Oh, yes, of course you would have noticed," Hermione said, relieved at the topic change. "We aren't actually required to learn Latin or any other foreign language while at school, but I did find it helped to study Latin during the summers - Proper Pronunciation is Paramount while Practicing Magic, after all."   
  
"We have the same trouble with some exorcisms," Sam replied. "Though, most let you get away with butchering the language a little..."  
  
Sam and Hermione continued talking for several more minutes, while Dean commiserated with Ron about how much he hated research and couldn't understand how some geeks got off on it. Sam and Hermione both rolled their eyes simultaneously at that overheard comment, and Harry laughed.   
  
Eventually, they all fell silent and read, only speaking to ask if someone else's book mentioned something specific or not. Hermione was quick, Sam realized. She had already moved off the basic books and was plowing through the more advanced tomes. At some point, she had magicked her feathered pen to write on its own, and Sam realized that she was making another list of books, to presumably get from the wizard's library.  
  
"Sam, Dean," Harry said, "can I speak to you in private for a moment?"  
  
Hermione and Ron looked up sharply, but didn't say anything. Sam could tell that they weren't used to Harry excluding them from anything.   
  
Dean nodded and stood. "How about we go get dinner for everyone? Is pizza alright, or do y'all want Chinese?"  
  
"Chinese."   
  
"Pizza - I mean, Chinese."  
  
"Ok then, we'll be right back. Don't touch my stuff."   
  
Once they were out in the car, Sam was surprised to see Harry visibly relax a little.  
  
"Why do you look so relieved to be out of there?" Dean asked, obviously picking up on it too, and growing a little concerned. "I thought those two were your friends."  
  
"They are, I just... I think they're mad at me," Harry said. Sam huffed a laugh.  
  
"And you make fun of Dean and me for having silent conversations," Sam said, causing Harry to smile.  
  
"It's why I need to talk to you two," Harry said. "I want to show them your file."  
  
Sam breathed deeply. "I don't know, Harry..."  
  
"That thing has everything in it," Dean finished for him. "It's bad enough you and Draco saw it... not to mention that creepy wizard department we got it from."  
  
"I know," Harry said. "It's why I'm asking for your permission. I understand if your answer is no - but Hermione is really good with stuff like this...I mean,  _really_  good. I'm hoping she'll be able to help."   
  
"What is there to even help  _with_ ?" Sam asked. "We know they know about the seals, we know that they know we're involved. Hence the report - problem solved. They want to bring us in for questioning like Malfoy said. All we have to do is avoid wizards from now on, which apparently, we'd been doing a pretty good job of before we met you."  
  
"Okay, forget I asked," Harry said sullenly. "I just thought that she might be able to confirm that all they wanted was to question you, and that they didn't know anything that you don't."  
  
"How about we compromise," Dean suddenly spoke up. "You give her the abridged version of our lives. You leave out the bit about what that demon did to Sam, and you only show her the bits of the files that talk about the seals. We agreed?"  
  
"Yeah... yeah, okay," Sam said.  
  
"Deal," Harry said. "Thanks."  
  
"They're mad at you because you usually tell them every single thing that ever happens to you, right?" Dean guessed.   
  
"Maybe," Harry replied, embarrassed.  
  
"Well, Sammy, I think I finally found a bigger girl than you!" Dean laughed, as they pulled up to the Chinese place.  
  
"We went through a war together," Harry said. "It's completely understandable."  
  
"You just keep telling yourself that," Dean said.  
  
"I bet you and Sam tell each other everything," Harry replied, as Dean threw the shifter into park - Sam was never more thankful for the timing.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Sam said, getting out of the car. "Hopefully, you also know exactly what food your friends like, because we forgot to ask them before we left."  
  
Harry frowned at him briefly, but followed him out of the car without hesitation.  
  
*    *  
  
"Harry, I don't care what you say, you are most definitely  _my_  saviour," was the first thing Ron said, when Harry shouldered his way back into the motel room carrying two bags of Chinese food. Harry rolled his eyes.   
  
Hermione immediately began to clear the table of all books, muttering about Bobby Singer not wanting crumbs in the bindings. Harry really wanted to ask Hermione what Bobby was like - he hadn't had much contact with Hunters in his life, and he wondered if they all had the same vagabond aura as the Winchesters.  
  
They all ate and discussed what they had read so far. Sam and Dean cleared up any questions that the wizards had about demons and spirits. Ron went into a lengthy, if not technical, explanation of the non-vengeful harmless spirits of the wizarding world, though Sam and Dean were of the opinion that, whether a spirit was vengeful or not, it deserved to be put to rest rather than spending eternity playing mascot to a school. Ron argued, but Harry and Hermione couldn't help but partially agree. Though, they didn't think the ghosts should be forced to rest, maybe just given the option.  
  
Of course, that led to a discussion on Peeves, whom Harry would have been quite happy to force into rest. Sadly, Sam and Dean said that poltergeists were harder to get rid of, and their strength varied greatly from one to another. Apparently, Dean had easily put down a poltergeist when he was fourteen with only a little help from his father, yet at the age of twenty-four, Sam had nearly been strangled to death while trying to get rid of another. Surprisingly to Harry, Dean and Sam seemed shocked to hear that Peeves was 'corporeal.'  
  
"What was that song Peeves sang at you in second year?" Ron asked. "I remember you particularly hating that one."  
  
"Let's see..." Harry said, trying to remember. "Something along the lines of: Oh Potter, you rotter, what have you done? You're killing all the students. You think it's great fun."  
  
Dean snorted a laugh, and Sam looked a little mortified on Harry's behalf.  
  
"You weren't really killing students, though, right?" Dean said, smiling. "Because you know we'd have to put you down if you were secretly evil."  
  
"No, it was a misunderstanding," Harry replied. "Besides, no one actually died."  
  
"Yeah," Ron said. "Hermione was petrified for a while though."  
  
"You were scared that Harry was evil?" Sam asked in confusion.  
  
Hermione laughed. "No, I knew Harry was innocent. I was actually literally petrified."  
  
"It was a Basilisk," Ron said.  
  
"Oh, I read about that," Sam said. "I didn't realize you were one of the victims."  
  
"I missed so much school," Hermione said. "I was quite upset."  
  
"Ah, Sam..." Dean said. "It's a good thing you didn't meet Hermione when you were a teenager. Ron here would be missing a wife, and you would have run off long before Stanford."  
  
"Shut up, Dean," Sam said tiredly, and Harry was slightly surprised that Dean did.   
  
"Do you guys mind if I speak to Hermione and Ron in private for a bit?" Harry asked the Winchesters. "About what we discussed earlier..."  
  
Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry curiously. Sam and Dean looked briefly at each other and then nodded.  
  
"Use the bathroom," Dean said. "I don't want you outside the salt lines without one of us with you."  
  
"Ok," Harry said, and picked up his shoulder bag.  
  
"Harry," Dean commanded, "leave the part you aren't sharing."  
  
Harry could feel Hermione and Ron's curiosity rise, and he was mildly disappointed that Dean didn't trust him not to share the pages detailing his and Sam's lives, but he understood. He pulled the thick folder from his shoulder bag, and dutifully removed that portion of the file. He left it on the table next to the brothers, and appreciated the fact that Dean didn't double check the pages. He understood what the gesture meant - they might not trust him completely, but they did trust him.  
  
As soon as the bathroom door was closed, and Harry had the anti-eavesdropping charms up. Ron and Hermione laid into him.  
  
"Merlin's balls, Harry!" Ron said. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"  
  
"You aren't being held against your will, right?" Hermione asked in concern,."I figured you'd find a way to tell us if you were, but I just thought I should ask-"  
  
"I always figured there'd be a day where you'd have to put someone else in charge, I just didn't think I'd live to see it," Ron said. "And I really didn't think you'd put Muggle  _Hunters_  in charge. How do you know you can even trust them? I mean, they seem like nice enough blokes... a little quiet and moody maybe-"  
  
"Oh, and I did put my foot in it before, didn't I?" Hermione said. "Some diplomat I am - all the references to Hunters I read before I came mentioned that tragic events often precipitated the career choice, and I still went ahead and brought it up..."  
  
"One thing at a time!" Harry said. "Please!"  
  
Hermione and Ron both fell silent and looked expectantly at Harry, as if he should have remembered the order of their questions.  
  
"I'm not being held against my will," Harry started. "The Winchesters are formidible Hunters, but they don't have the necessary knowledge to prevent a wizard from apparating. Now...umm...yes, Hermione, you put your foot in it, but I'm sure you're forgiven. As for what I've gotten myself into, I have to show you something."  
  
"That file?" Hermione asked. "What's in it? What about the pages that Dean made you leave behind?"  
  
"Right," Harry said. "First, I need to sum-up those pages... Sam and Dean's mother was killed by a demon when Sam was a baby. Sam has... a lot in common with me. In any case, Dean and Sam's father started a quest for revenge shortly after, training the two boys to be Hunters. Sam tried to leave and do something else with his life, but the demon ended up killing his girlfriend and he rejoined his father's quest to kill it... umm, let's see... about a year after Sam's girlfriend was killed, his father was also killed - most likely in a deal with the demon to save Dean's life after a car-wreck. A year after that, Dean and Sam managed to finally kill the demon, but Sam was killed in the process and Dean sold his soul to bring him back. Subsequently, Dean went to Hell last May. In September, an angel named Castiel pulled him out of Hell...and um, I think that pretty much catches us up."  
  
Harry poured himself a glass of water from the tap and took in Ron and Hermione's expressions. Hermione looked like she either wanted to cry or run to the library. Ron looked as though Harry was just about to be taken away in a straight jacket, though, thankfully, he at least looked horrified about it.  
  
"So," Harry continued, after taking a sip of water, "the other reason I'm still with the Winchesters is because the American Department of Mysteries has a file on them. As you both should know, it's not standard practice for the Department of Mysteries to concern themselves with Hunters. So, while Malfoy was in neighbourhood, I had him find and copy the file for me." Harry then held up the folder that he still clutched in his hand. "I wanted you to take a look at it, Hermione, and tell me what you think the Department would do to the Winchesters if they ever got a hold of them. I also want to know  _who_  is looking for them, and how actively they are looking."  
  
"Sure, Harry, I'll do my best..." Hermione said, reaching for the file.  
  
"There's one other thing," Harry said, looking briefly at the back of the door out of habit, rather than actual concern. "I haven't told the Winchesters, but... there's a prophecy."  
  
Ron and Hermione both paled slightly at that. They had never had much fondness for prophecy after their school years. Harry reached into his shoulder bag, and pulled out the neatly folded piece of paper.   
  
"Besides the storage at the Department of Mysteries, this is all that survives about what the prophecy said. It, ah... doesn't look good." Harry handed the piece of paper over to Hermione.  
  
"Why didn't you go listen to the whole thing while you were in the Department with Sam and Dean?" Ron asked.  
  
"Um, well," Harry started, "I went to take a look alone first, while I decided if I should tell them... and I met Castiel."  
  
"You met an  _angel?!_ " Ron's jaw dropped.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, "he basically told me that I shouldn't say anything, though not in so many words. He was a bit confusing."  
  
"Oh my..." Hermione muttered, scanning the page about the prophecy. "I can see why they started a file after this...though, how they knew it was Sam and Dean..."  
  
"I asked Dean about that," Harry said, frowning. "Before I knew about the prophecy, I noted that a lot of the information in the file the Aurors have on them has a research date at the end of August. I asked him what he thought Sam had done to attract attention, and he said that it wasn't anything Sam did."  
  
"Well, maybe he just doesn't know..." Hermione started to say.  
  
"No, it was the way he said it. There's something we're missing," Harry replied.  
  
"Alright, Harry," Hermione said. "I'll look into it."  
  
"Thanks," Harry replied. "Are there any more questions, or shall we get out of this horribly small bathroom?"  
  
"I don't think they like me very much," Ron suddenly said. Harry laughed - leave it to Ron to be insecure.  
  
"I don't think they like anyone very much, Ron," Harry said.   
  
"Dean likes Malfoy!" Ron said. "He kept giving me dirty looks when I called him a git!"  
  
"Yes, okay," Harry said. "I admit that I didn't expect that... maybe if you let him hit you in the face, he'll like you too."  
  
Harry watched, amused, as Ron lifted his hand to his jaw as if he was even considering it.  
  
"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione said. "It's a known fact that Hunters isolate themselves from the rest of society. We should be impressed that they have any social graces at all."  
  
"Speaking of which," Harry said, "the longer we stay in here chatting about them - and they  _know_  that's what we're doing - the ruder we appear. Let's go."  
  
Harry removed the charms and opened the door. It felt 100% better now that Ron and Hermione knew about the prophecy as well. Dean and Sam looked up from their books as the wizards re-entered the room.  
  
"We still good?" Dean asked flatly.  
  
"Of course," Hermione answered. Harry could tell that she was looking at Dean with new eyes. Harry thought about it and realized that he had basically been introduced to Dean already knowing that the man had been in Hell - but Hermione and Ron hadn't. Hermione had spent the afternoon researching across from Dean, hearing him tell jokes and making Sam groan, and she had already begun to form an opinion of him based on that. Now, though... instead of a wisecracking hardened Hunter with limited social graces, as Hermione would have put it no doubt, she was seeing someone who had probably seen things so horrible that they were impossible to imagine.  
  
"Good," Dean said, and focused back on his book. There was a hard set to his jaw that told Harry, that he didn't like Hermione knowing. Harry glanced at Sam to see him staring at his book without actually reading it, looking surprisingly guilty. Harry wondered if he blamed himself for Dean going to hell.  
  
"Why did you hit Malfoy?" Ron suddenly asked. "Did he say something?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at the way Ron wouldn't let something go if he thought it was personal. Then he realized that Ron's question had effectively broken the tension in the room, and he was suddenly thankful for Ron's one-track mind.  
  
"He, uh..." Dean began, "he sort of flipped out when he found out we were Hunters, and hit Sam with something."  
  
Ron's eyes widened.  
  
"What'd he hit you with?" Ron asked Sam.  
  
"Um, the red one, I think," Sam said. "Stupify? I don't know, hurt more than when the demon did it, and it knocked me backwards."  
  
"That's it?" Ron asked, surprised. "It didn't knock you out?"  
  
"Is it supposed to?" Sam asked.  
  
"You've seen Hagrid resist that spell before, Ron," Harry interrupted. "Sam's a big guy."  
  
"Well, yeah, Hagrid can resist them, but that's just because he's not completely human," Ron said.  
  
"It might not have been Stupefy - it was non-verbal magic." Harry forced himself to shrug, without looking over at the Winchesters... he had to think of another distraction quickly. "Hey, Ron, I have a mission for you!"  
  
Ron's confused expression was now directed at Harry.  
  
"I think we need some dessert," Harry stated sincerely, and Ron's face split into a grin.  
  
"Is it pie?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yes," Harry smiled, "and Dean's going to show you on the map where you can get it." He looked over towards Dean to see his eyes widen in anticipation. "Keep it within the closest six states, Dean."  
  
Dean picked up the road map and looked over at Sam.  
  
"Whattaya think, Sam?" Dean asked. "We had the blueberry yesterday... I'm thinking pecan."  
  
Harry watched as Sam's uneasy expression softened. "That place in Connecticut?"  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Dean showed Ron where the diner was on the map. It was good to know that both Ron and Dean could easily be distracted by the idea of delicious pie. He knew that Sam was still fully aware of how dangerous Ron's line of questioning had been... but Harry had promised Dean that he wouldn't tell his friends about what had happened to Sam as a baby and, as much as he wanted to break that promise, he knew that, right now, having the Winchesters' trust could mean the difference between him living and dying.  
  
It wasn't until Hermione shifted on her feet beside him that Harry even remembered she was still in the room. He glanced over to find her looking at him with a thoughtful expression. Merlin's balls, sometimes Harry wished Hermione was a little less intelligent.


	26. Chapter 26

Twenty minutes later, Ron returned with a whole pie. Harry watched with an amused expression as Dean and Ron both made moaning noises and went on about the various wonders of good pie, while Sam and Hermione rolled their eyes. Harry was sure Ron would thank him later for discovering a way for Dean to like him without having to be punched in the face. He wasn't quite sure how Sam felt about Ron, but in general Sam seemed to be much more trusting of people than Dean was.  
  
"What's the plan, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly from beside him on the bed, where she sat surrounded by various open books and pieces of parchment.  
  
"Stay here, let the Winchesters keep me safe, hope that the Dementors return to Europe on their own - it's either that or I'll just report to the Ministry that the demons are controlling them and let the Department of Mysteries take over the job," Harry answered.  
  
"You really think it's wise to let them defend a motel room?" Hermione asked. "You could move to a safe-house. Then we'd have access to the Floo Network."  
  
Harry stared at Hermione dumbfounded. "You think we could?" he asked. "I mean... do you think we could get an official safe-house without the Ministry finding out who I'm traveling with and what the stakes are?"  
  
"Harry..." Hermione started, and Harry already knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say, "...maybe the Ministry  _should_  know what the stakes are..."  
  
"No," Sam suddenly said. "Dean and I will take care of it."  
  
"We have enough people to look after as it is," Dean added sternly.  
  
"Look af-" Ron started to ask indignantly, and Harry could see Hermione opening her mouth to protest as well, so he interrupted quickly before someone said the wrong thing to the two Hunters.  
  
"I agree with Sam and Dean," Harry said, "and that's the final word. No arguing."  
  
"But Harry..." Hermione started.  
  
"You can argue all you want with me at home," Harry cut in, "but this is  _my_  assignment as an _Auror_. You two aren't here in any official capacity, and shouldn't have even been informed how to find me."  
  
"Malfoy..." Ron started.  
  
"Malfoy met up with us after we apparated to Boston," Harry said. "Yet Ron seemed to know that I was traveling in an old black car. He showed up to find me in a completely different part of the country than I had been in when I saw Malfoy. The only reason I'm not yelling at Phil right now is because I  _know_ how intimidating you two can get when you think I'm in danger, and I've also been giving him a rough enough time as it is."  
  
"Har-" Hermione said.  
  
"My point is..." Harry continued regardless, "since you  _insist_  on helping, you could at least do as I say. Otherwise, you can go home, and tell my wife that Dean is even better looking in person!"  
  
"Alright!" Hermione said. "I'm sorry I brought it up."  
  
Harry could see the slow smile on Dean's face, and he heard Sam say, "Don't..." under his breath, just before Ron spoke up.  
  
"We won't tell people," Ron said, "but can we at least see if we can secure a safe-house? It'd be a better defense than this motel."  
  
"And it'd have a Floo network," Hermione said, "which would mean easier access to the libraries."  
  
"What's a Floo network?" Dean asked.  
  
"Another form of Wizard transportation," Harry answered, while he considered. "I doubt you'd like it very much either."  
  
"What kind of defenses would this house have?" Dean followed up with.  
  
"The standard wards," Hermione answered, "and you two could add whatever you think necessary when we arrive."  
  
Dean shrugged and looked at Sam, who frowned slightly and then also shrugged.  
  
"Yeah, I s'pose that'd be ok," Dean answered.  
  
"As long as no one knows we're involved," Sam added.  
  
"I'll talk to Phil about it," Harry said. "I have to to check in with the team anyway."  
  
Harry stood to go use the bathroom, in order to keep his conversation with Phil private. He realized as he got to the door that he'd be leaving Ron and Hermione alone with Sam and Dean.  
  
"Ron, Hermione?" Harry said, and they both looked over towards him. "Don't forget that I put Sam and Dean in charge. Really, if you want to do something, you should be taking it up with them, not me."  
  
Harry smiled at the slightly stunned expressions on everybody's faces, and slipped into the bathroom. One way to get Hermione and Ron not to argue with him, was to take away his own authority. They were equals and family, which always made it harder for them not to argue every step of the way. Harry knew that there was no way they would argue so ferociously against the Winchesters.   
  
* *  
  
"When was the last time he put someone other than himself in charge?" Dean asked, looking at Hermione and Ron, who were still staring at the closed bathroom door.  
  
"Um," Ron said, looking at Hermione in desperation.  
  
"Well..." Hermione began, "he always listened to Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"And when he joined the Aurors, he wasn't senior ranked for the first few years," Ron added. "So, he had to answer to people then, but, uh... it was mostly just for show..."  
  
"Harry's never responded well to authority figures," Hermione sighed. "I think it's because of his childhood-"  
  
"That's what I figured," Dean interrupted, "Any idea why we're so special?"  
  
"Dean, we  _are_  the authority here," Sam responded. "Harry's just recognized it."  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam.  
  
"Listen to you..." he started to say.  
  
"Well, that may be true," Hermione said politely. "I think it's also a convenient way for him to keep us from arguing."  
  
Dean huffed a laugh at Sam's small frown, and Ron's annoyed expression.  
  
"Smart guy," Dean said. Hermione smiled at him.  
  
"If Harry can secure a safe-house, I'm planning to travel to the libraries from there," Hermione suddenly informed them.  
  
"Uh, ok..." Dean said.  
  
"What libraries?" Sam asked.  
  
"I've compiled a list of books about demons and the apocalypse that I think may be useful," Hermione answered. "The Wizarding library in New Orleans has an extensive section on demonology, and the Central American Wizarding Confederacy has quite the fascination with the apocalypse, so they'll most likely have an extensive collection on the matter."  
  
Sam gave Dean a look that clearly stated, 'I want to go too'. Dean shook his head.  
  
"Were you going to go by...umm...Flew?" Sam asked, looking significantly at Dean.  
  
"If we can get a safe-house, then yes." Hermione responded.  
  
"Sam..." Dean said in warning.  
  
"We can ask Harry..." Sam said quietly to him.  
  
"Sam, they're  _Wizard_  libraries." Dean said. "They'll be crawling with  _Wizards_ , probably  _smart_  ones. I don't care how you plan to get there, you are not going, not when we don't even know exactly how many wizards are looking for us and what they plan to do with us once they find us."  
  
"Hermione has to go alone and under the invisibility cloak, in any case," Ron said, with a smile. "We're actually quite famous, you see. So, it'll be news and speculation if she's seen in American libraries researching the apocalypse."  
  
Dean looked at Hermione to see her giving Sam a sympathetic look.  
  
"Ron's right," Hermione sighed. "Sorry, Sam."  
  
"Oh," Sam said, and turned back to his book. Dean could tell that Sam had been thinking it was just a matter of convincing Dean to let him go, and was slightly annoyed that all the arguments he had no doubt been building up in his head were useless.  
  
"Plus," Ron said, "the last thing I need is more gossip columns about my wife running off with some good-looking bloke."  
  
"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione said, "there hasn't been one of those since the children were born."  
  
Dean smiled at the concentration Sam was suddenly giving his book. He knew without seeing them that the tips of Sam's ears were turning red.   
  
Ron and Hermione continued their discussion on the relative attention span of the Wizard gossip rags, until Harry came back out of the bathroom.  
  
"We've got a safe-house," he announced. "Phil agreed that he owed me one after utterly caving to the Weasley wrath this morning."  
  
Dean watched as Hermione gave them all a self-satisfied smile.  
  
"When can we move to it?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Tomorrow morning," Harry answered. Phil's going to set it up for us tonight, and work out a way to get Sam and Dean there."  
  
"We're driving there," Dean stated, daring Harry to suggest anything else. There was no way in hell he was leaving his baby in another motel parking lot, while wizards tried not to leave Sam's body parts in separate states.  
  
"Also, you should ride with us," Sam added from where he sat reading.  
  
"But-" Harry started to say.  
  
"Didn't you just say that Sam and I were in charge?" Dean questioned with a smirk. Harry's mouth snapped shut as his eyes widened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twin smiles on Hermione and Ron's faces. "Didn't really think that one through, did ya?"   
  
Dean knew full well that Harry could revoke their authority at any given moment. He also knew that Harry and his friends could disappear on the spot and leave them without a word - and the fact that they hadn't, well, that told him that they were serious about all this - about letting him and Sam protect Harry. It was an admission that the wizards were in over their heads - their history of fighting BaldMoron (or whatever that evil dude's name was) aside.  
  
"I did, and taking the car is a good idea," Harry replied seriously, looking at Dean intently. "I'm sure you and  _Sam_ , will be much more  _comfortable_  using  _non-magical_  transport."  
  
Dean felt the knot form in his stomach immediately. He suddenly understood what Ron had meant when he said that Harry had only ever deferred authority  _for show_ . So, obviously, Dean and Sam were in charge only as long as they gave orders that Harry agreed with.   
  
"Damn straight," Dean responded with forced levity. He glanced at Harry's friends and could tell that they hadn't picked up on what that conversation had really been about. He was thankful for that. He then shot a look to Sam to see him with his jaw clenched and a slightly betrayed look on his face, while he stared blankly at the book in front of him. Shit.  
  
Something must have made it to Dean's expression, because Harry threw an immediate glance towards Sam as well, and then he at least had the decency to look regretful.  
  
"Do you guys have a room for the night?" Dean asked Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Yes, it's just a couple of doors down. Number seven," Hermione answered.  
  
"Good, I think it's about time to turn in for the night," Dean stated. "Take whatever books you like, if you want to keep reading."  
  
Hermione scrambled to stack as many books as she could, passing a pile to Ron as well. Dean took the opportunity to catch Sam's eye.  
  
"Give Harry the salt," Dean said softly to Sam, then gave him a wink and held up a thumb and two fingers. At first, Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, and then Dean watched as his upper lip twitched in a restrained smile.  
  
Sam grabbed the bags of salt and stood to his full height, looming over Harry as he handed them over.   
  
"Your friends will go first," Sam commanded, and Dean was filled with nostalgia. "You'll follow 30 seconds after. You will go directly there and back again by the quickest method possible. Salt all windows and doors completely. Not a single gap, ya hear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said, eyes wide. Dean bit his lip in order to keep the stern expression on his face. Sam had started numbering and imitating their father's speeches when he was a teenager. At the time, it had both annoyed Dean, because Sam always did it when he was complaining, and amused him, because Sam's cracking teenage voice trying to imitate John Winchester had been hilarious, no matter how pissed off Dean was at Sam's back-talk. Now, though, with Sam's height, build, and voice, Dean knew that if he closed his eyes he could easily pretend it was his father speaking.  
  
Sam turned to Hermione and Ron and fixed them with a heavy stare that Dean knew well - on a different face.   
  
"Look after Harry," Sam stated, and Dean shook his head at the re-write.  
  
"Right," Ron stated seriously. Hermione nodded vigorously, and stuttered out a half-confused, "Of course."  
  
"Go!" Sam said, with a wave of his hand that clearly dismissed Ron and Hermione. They disappeared immediately. Dean could practically see Harry counting to 30 in his head, and was just about to laugh when Sam suddenly broke away from the script. Sam leaned down, holding Harry still with his right hand on Harry's left shoulder. Dean watched fascinated as Sam whispered something softly in Harry's ear. It was said far too quietly for Dean to hear what it was; all he could do was watch as the colour drained from Harry's face. Dean's smile fell into confusion, but, just as he was about to demand an explanation, Sam straightened and clapped Harry lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"You might want to put a devil's trap over the door of their room too," Sam said, "just to be safe. Okay?"  
  
"Understood," Harry said softly.  
  
"Go on," Sam said with the same dismissive hand gesture and stern voice his earlier speech had been in. Harry turned and disappeared.  
  
"What the hell did you say to him?" Dean asked immediately.  
  
Sam shrugged.  
  
"Seriously, Sam," Dean tried again, "I don't remember that part of the speech."   
  
"Well," Sam said, "you had usually always been dismissed by that part of the speech. You know...to go clear the path of monsters, so that by the time I got there all I had to do was follow the blood-trail and hope none of it belonged to you."  
  
"Sam..." Dean warned, because yes - that was exactly what he remembered from when Sam used to imitate Dad's speeches. Then he remembered the look on Harry's face, and his curiosity spiked. "What did... what kind of stuff did Dad used to say to you when I left?"  
  
"Mostly just to stop giving him that look," Sam said with a fond smile, "and to do what you told me."  
  
"So, what did you say to Harry?" Dean asked again.  
  
"Just something along the same lines," Sam said, then started throwing the books that had gathered on his bed onto the floor, his back to Dean.   
  
* *  
  
Harry arrived in Ron and Hermione's room to see them both staring at each other, a little shell shocked. Harry figured that if he stopped to think about anything, he would probably look much the same. Instead, he marched over to the door with the bag of salt and began carefully pouring a thick white line across the threshold.  
  
"What just happened?" Ron asked.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione added, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Hermione's question felt more difficult to answer.  
  
"I said the wrong thing," Harry answered.  
  
"What?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry shrugged as he moved from the door to the window, pouring salt along the sill.  
  
"Are they mad at you?" Hermione asked softly.  
  
"Sam is," Harry admitted. "A little. I deserve it."  
  
"You weren't even talking to Sam," Ron said slowly. "He was reading."  
  
"Harry?" Hermione said softly, "what aren't you telling us?"  
  
"Nothing, Hermione," Harry sighed, giving Hermione a purposeful look as he made his way passed them to the bathroom. "I've told you everything."  
  
"Harry..." Hermione started, following Harry to stand in the narrow doorway of the bathroom, while he salted the high window. "I'm neither deaf nor blind; there's something more going on here. You and the Winchesters are apparently having coded conversations, in which you can manage to anger each other without Ron or me even knowing when or how. Not to mention the fact that I  _know_  Dean wouldn't let you show me the complete file..."

  
"Hermione," Harry said, "would  _you_  want a stranger reading every last detail about everything you've done in the past thee years? Including visits to ex-lovers, your father's final words, and descriptions of your little brother's recurring nightmares?"  
  
Harry watched as Hermione paled.   
  
"The file is that detailed?" Hermione asked, in disbelief.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied.  
  
"Sam's anything but little," Ron said from behind Hermione. "How old is he anyway?"  
  
"Uh, he'll be twenty-six in the spring, I think." Harry answered, used, by now, to Ron's frequent non-sequiturs.  
  
Harry nearly walked right into his friends, as they both seemed to freeze where they stood.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"He's nearly four years _younger_  than us?!" Ron said increduously. "He just ordered me around like he was my mother!"  
  
Harry had to laugh at the mental image that sentence inspired - Sam in the Weasley's kitchen, with Molly's apron on, brandishing a spoon like a wand and yelling at Ron about talking with his mouth full.  
  
"I thought they were so much older than that..." Hermione said, and the laugh died in Harry's throat.   
  
"They are," Harry answered, gently nudging Hermione until she moved out of the doorway so that he could exit the bathroom. "And I've got to get back to them before they come here and yell at me again."  
  
Harry waved his wand at the ceiling over the door and watched as a devil's trap slowly formed over the faded water-damage stains. This really was a crappy motel. Harry was looking forward to the safe-house. He turned back to Ron and Hermione, to find them both still staring at him as though he was withholding information from them. He figured maybe it was because he was, but there wasn't much he could do about it.   
  
"Goodnight," he said instead.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry," Ron replied, while Hermione just sighed. Harry turned and apparated back to the Winchesters' room, where he found a giant canary and Sam laughing so hard he was crying. Harry immediately took back what he had said to Hermione - the Winchesters really weren't that old after all.


	27. Chapter 27

The next day broke early. Phil dropped by first, to tell them the location of the safe-house, which was dutifully written out on small slips of parchment by the secret keeper. Hermione dropped by the Winchester room immediately afterward to inform them that she was apparating to the safe-house and then continuing on by Floo to the libraries. Dean nodded groggily at her and shuffled into the shower, yelling at Sam to get him some coffee. As they got ready, Sam would occasionally find a yellow feather and start giggling, while Dean made a show of scowling at him. Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of Dean's embarrassment over accidentally eating a Canary Cream was for Sam and Harry's benefit and how much was real; because, although Harry knew that Sam hadn't forgiven him for his comment the previous night, it was hard for Sam to give him the cold shoulder when he was the only one that Sam could team up with to tease Dean.  
  
For good measure, Harry reminded Dean that it wasn't Ron's fault that Dean had eaten a strange candy from the floor. He wasn't entirely sure what Dean might have done to Ron, but by Harry's count he had now saved Ron from getting punched in the face twice.  
  
Ron stumbled into the room a good hour and a half after Hermione had left, and seemed puzzled when Dean glared at him and Sam smiled widely. Harry gave Ron a shrug that meant, 'don't worry about it,' and Ron gave a shrug back that said, 'it's too early to worry even if I tried.'  
  
As they watched the Winchesters pack up their weapons, Harry and Ron discussed the latest Quidditch trades. It wasn't until Harry saw Sam start packing up the laptop that Harry turned his attention back to the Winchesters.  
  
"The laptop probably won't work at the safe-house," Harry said, "so, if there's anything you want to look up before we go, I suggest doing it here."  
  
"There's no wireless?" Dean asked.  
  
"No, but that's not it," Harry replied. "I mean that if you try to turn on the laptop, you might fry the hard drive. Also, depending on the house, there might not be electricity."  
  
"What?" Sam asked.  
  
"You should probably leave your mobile phones off as well," Harry added.  
  
"They work off batteries..." Dean started.  
  
"I know, but there's still a possibility of them short-circuiting," Harry replied.  
  
"Why?" Sam asked.  
  
"Ever wonder why I use a mirror instead of a mobile?" Harry asked in return.  
  
"Because you're a wizard," Dean guessed, "and wizards do weird shit like that."  
  
"Well, yes," Harry laughed, "but it's also because I can't use a mobile. Magic interferes with electronics. You should see how many computers I go through in a year. Ginny keeps wondering why I bother trying."  
  
"It's why my Dad has to keep all his Muggle things in the shed," Ron added. "When he tried to run some elec-trick-acy into the house, the wires caught fire."  
  
Harry watched as Dean's brow furrowed, and then he quickly rummaged through the closest duffle bag. He pulled out an odd looking piece of electronic equipment.  
  
"I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner," Dean said, as he turned the device on, and then pointed it at Harry.  
  
"What's that?" Ron asked, slightly concerned.  
  
"It's an EMF meter," Dean answered, looking slightly disappointed at whatever the device was telling him. "It detects changes in electro-magnetic frequencies."   
  
"Elo-what?" Ron asked confused.  
  
"Sometimes spirits and demons - and some other supernatural creatures - affect the ambient electro-magnetic frequencies. It's why ghosts affect radios and television sets," Sam explained. "It's not detecting you guys though."  
  
Dean moved it closer to Harry, but it didn't seem to change. Ron was the same.  
  
"Hold on, keep it on," Harry said. "I'm curious." Then he drew out his wand.  
  
" _Wingadium Leviosa,_ " the duffle bag resting on the bed began to hover a foot or two in the air. The EMF meter began to hum softly.  
  
"Cool," Dean said. "Try something else, something big!"  
  
The bag fell unceremoniously back to the bed, and Harry smiled.   
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Harry said, and the Stag sprang into life out of the end of his wand. The EMF meter screeched.   
  
"Awesome!" Dean said. Sam was smiling now too, though his attention was on the Stag and not the EMF meter. Dean turned to Ron. "Can you do one too?"  
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Ron said, and Ron's terrier ran around the Stag's feet. The EMF meter screeched louder.  
  
"You two try!" Harry said. "Concentrate on your ring and bracelet."  
  
Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to actually see the Patronuses, but he watched as Dean's ring and Sam's bracelet began to glow blue, if only a little bit. The EMF meter screeched even louder then made an odd popping noise and fell quiet. Ron looked disappointed and the small dog vanished, Harry dismissed his own Patronus as well.  
  
"Uh," Dean said, "I think we broke it."  
  
"Yeah..." Ron said, "that's why Hermione won't let me get a computron."  
  
"Computer," Harry corrected.  
  
"That's what I said," Ron replied. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Can you fix it?" Harry said, motioning towards the dead EMF meter in Dean's hand.  
  
"Yeah, not the first time something has blown it out," Dean answered. "Besides, I got a back-up anyway."  
  
"Where did you buy that thing?" Ron asked. "It would be a brilliant gift for my Dad."  
  
"I made this one," Dean said with a huge smile. Ron's eyes widened.   
  
"Wow..."  
  
"Which is probably why it blew out," Sam added, as he turned to fetch his own duffle bag. Harry watched Dean's smile turn into a wounded pout, and couldn't help shooting a scowl at Sam's back in Dean's defense. Ron continued as though Sam hadn't said anything.  
  
"Do you think you could make me one for my Dad?" Ron asked. "I'll pay you, of course...for parts and labour and, umm, whatever else you need."  
  
"Sure thing, man," Dean said, his smile returning.  
  
"Dean," Sam said sternly, then turned to Ron apologetically. "Sorry, Ron, we don't have time to build home-made EMF meters for people. We'll tell you where you can buy a real one, though, okay?"  
  
Harry was growing increasingly exasperated with Sam. Now not only was Dean not smiling, but Ron looked slightly disappointed as well.  
  
"Oh, right, sorry," Ron said. "Telling me where I can buy one would be great, thanks."  
  
"I'm sure Dean could show you how to fix it if it breaks," Harry suggested. "It's likely to happen if you let your Dad play with it."  
  
Ron gave Dean a hopeful grin.  
  
"Yeah, I could do that," Dean replied nonchalantly, but Harry could tell that Dean was happy to have someone take an interest in his skills.  
  
"Brilliant," Harry said with a nod. "It's nearly noon, we should really get going if we want to make it to the safe-house by nightfall."  
  
*  
  
"You riding with us then?" Sam heard Dean ask Ron as Sam tried to stuff the last duffle into the trunk in an attempt to give the back seat a little more leg room.  
  
"I'd love to, mate," Ron replied, "but I thought it might be better if I were your eyes in the air. So, if it's alright with you, I'll fly."  
  
Sam straightened out of the trunk so fast he nearly hit his head. He peered around the side of the car to see Dean looking at Ron as though he had just said that he'd swim back to England, and Harry looking as though he really wished that he were Ron instead of himself.  
  
"Fly?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah," Ron shrugged, "on my broom." Ron looked around the parking lot cautiously for a second, and then, satisfied that there was no one else around, reached into his bag and pulled out an old fashioned broomstick.  
  
"You actually fly on a broom?" Dean said slowly. "Seriously? A broom?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Ron said as though Dean was the strange one. "How else would I do it?"  
  
"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed. "They fly on brooms!"  
  
Sam bit his lip to keep from smiling. "I know, Dean, I'm standing right here."  
  
"Brooms!" Dean was laughing full out now, doubled over with his hands resting on his knees. Ron looked confused at the reaction, and for a moment Sam worried that Dean might accidentally offend the wizards, but Harry just looked amused.  
  
"Uh, I think that's a great idea, Ron," Sam said, trying to bring some order back to the conversation. Ron gave Sam a business-like nod, and then raised a confused eyebrow at Dean.   
  
"Yeah, man, better you than me," Dean said with a wave of his hand. "Alright, let's hit the road!"  
  
Sam walked over to the passenger door. Just as he was about to open it, he saw Harry pull Ron aside quickly.  
  
"If you see any Dementors, land immediately and call me, okay?" Harry ordered.   
  
"Okay, Harry," Ron said, in a humouring tone.  
  
"I mean it, Ron," Harry said. "If you fall on a highway-"  
  
"Harry, I know!" Ron cut him off in a frustrated tone. "I'll land, but I don't need you to come to my bleeding rescue-"  
  
"Ron," Harry said sternly.  
  
"Okay, okay, I'll call you," Ron replied, then turned and spotted Sam. Sam looked away, but knew that there was no hope in pretending that he hadn't been listening, so he gave Ron an apologetic smile.  
  
"Uh, if it gets too windy or something, there's plenty of room in the car," Sam offered.  
  
Ron gave Sam a small smile, then looked up at the sky. The Dementors were far enough away now that the sun was shining, and there were only a few white clouds. Ron's smile increased.  
  
"Nah, it's a brilliant day for flying," Ron said, then shot Harry an mischievous grin. "Have a good ride in the back seat Harry, I hope the car has air cooling!"  
  
"Thanks..." Harry said sarcastically. Ron laughed and threw a leg over his broomstick, and then kicked off the ground and shot straight up faster than Sam could see.   
  
"...and it's air  _conditioning_ , you twat," Harry finished. Sam huffed a laugh, and watched as Ron seemed to fade from sight, even though, for some reason, Sam could still sort of tell where he was.  
  
Sam shot a glance at Harry, who was looking up at the sky in envy.  
  
"He going to be alright up there?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, "just as long as he doesn't run into any Dementors." Harry brought his attention back to Sam. "He's a war-veteran and..."  
  
Sam nodded, trying to tell Harry he didn't have to say anything more. Harry glanced passed Sam into the car, where Dean sat, most likely giving them the 'what the fuck is taking so long?' look.  
  
"...he was there when his brother was killed," Harry finished. Sam nodded again, while his hand tightened around the passenger door handle. "Sam," Harry continued, "about last night..."  
  
Dean chose that moment to lean on the horn. Sam jumped and tore open his door violently.  
  
"We're coming, for fuck's sake! God!" Sam yelled.  
  
"You can just call me Dean," Dean deadpanned. "Now, get your slow asses in the car."  
  
*    *  
  
It was two hours into the drive and Dean was feeling pretty good. There was no traffic, a cool breeze through the windows, and Sam was letting him play Metallica Mix #5 on repeat, even though he had told Dean just last week that if Dean didn't give that tape a break he was going to... well, do some nasty things to either Dean or the Impala, neither of which Dean wanted to think about. Instead though, Sam had just rolled his eyes at the music choice, and then declared that he was going to have a nap.  
  
Now, Sam was partly dozing, partly staring blankly out the passenger window, as usual. Harry seemed content in the back seat. Oddly enough, it looked sort of like he was doing his taxes.  
  
"Are you doing paperwork?" Dean asked in disbelief.  
  
Harry looked at him through the rear-view mirror with a slight blush.  
  
"Uh, yes," Harry admitted. "I'm head of... you see, I'm on an international..."  
  
Dean couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.  
  
"What you're trying to say is that there's a catch to being legit?" Dean offered.  
  
"That's one way to put it," Harry said with a sigh.  
  
Sam rolled his head on the back of the seat, and raised his eyebrows in Harry's direction.  
  
"What are you telling them?" Sam asked. "I mean, you aren't filling out a report saying that you're a seal to the apocalypse and you're riding around with the Winchesters..."  
  
"Merlin, no," Harry replied.  
  
"So, what's the excuse?" Dean asked.  
  
"I've got it all worked out!" Harry said with a grin. "I'm keeping it as close to the truth as possible, mentioning the increased demonic activity this past year, and hypothesizing that there may be a connection...that's not my department, so by the the time it goes through the right channels-"  
  
"Harry," a muffled voice interrupted and Dean watched in the rear-view mirror as Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his flip-mirror. Sam sat up in the passenger seat and leaned his back against the door, so he was sitting sideways on the seat, facing Harry.  
  
"Ron?" Harry asked.  
  
"Take the next exit and pick me up at the petrol station." Ron's disembodied voice filled the car.  
  
"Ron, what-" Harry started to say, as Dean guided the car into the exit lane, and took a good look at the weather ahead of them.  
  
"Dementors," Dean and Ron both answered at the same time.   
  
Ron was easy to spot, being the only tall lanky guy with fiery red hair standing impatiently by the gas station. His broom was nowhere to be seen, but Dean guessed it was probably safely hidden in Ron's very ordinary looking backpack.  
  
Ron opened the back door and threw a grocery bag at Harry, before climbing in.  
  
"Bought some supplies, did you?" Harry asked, pulling a fistful of Snickers bars out of the bag.  
  
"Ah, Harry," Ron said wistfully, "It was such a beautiful day for flying..."  
  
"Hm-mm?" Harry said, handing Ron a candy bar.  
  
"And then I started to think..." Ron continued, with a sigh, slowly unwrapping the Snickers. "You remember how good Fred was at flying... Merlin, but they were unstoppable Beaters together, you know..."  
  
"Yeah, Ron," Harry replied.  
  
"Well, that's when I realized how cold the wind had gotten," Ron said, then shoved almost the entire candy bar into his mouth, and gestured violently out the front window of the car. "Bas-erds are compre-wy b-ockin m'way!"  
  
"Were you able to see how many?" Harry asked, apparently practiced at understanding Ron when he had a mouthful of food. Dean looked over at Sam and was surprised to see Sam looking at him as if  _he_  were the one talking with his mouth full. Yeah, fine, Dean got the point.  
  
"No," Ron said, suddenly annoyed. "I bloody landed, because you bloody made such a point of telling me too."  
  
Dean and Sam both turned their attention to Harry, as though they were watching a tennis match in the backseat. But Harry didn't look bothered by Ron's annoyance.  
  
"Good," Harry replied, which only seemed to piss Ron off more, though instead of raising his voice, he lowered it.  
  
"I don't know how many, but they seemed to be heading North-West," Ron said, "from what I could tell from the cloud formations once I was on the ground, anyway."  
  
"Damn," Dean and Sam both said at the same time, turning their attention back out the front window.   
  
"Exactly," Ron said, flopping into a slouch in defeat.   
  
The was a long pause in the car, and then Ron's voice broke the silence.  
  
"Harry," he said in frustration. Dean looked at Harry to see him looking slightly confused. "That's the way  _we're_  going! Merlin, sometimes I'm not entirely sure how you managed to win that war."  
  
"I had this complete git helping me," Harry replied seriously.  
  
"That's no way to talk about Hermione," Ron deadpanned.  
  
"Git." Harry rolled his eyes.   
  
Dean smiled, he was really starting to enjoy these crazy British wizards. He wondered briefly what his Dad would think of all this... Dean being friendly with wizards. What kind of talking-to would he get for that, he wondered. But what would his Dad have done, killed them?  
  
"What do you think we should do?" Sam asked, and Dean was momentarily concerned that Sam had just read his mind.   
  
"We could turn back, defend from the motel, like we originally planned," Dean offered as an option.  
  
"They could have planned this, planned for us to turn around," Sam said. "We turn around, we could be heading into some kind of ambush."  
  
"You could say the same thing about going forward," Dean pointed out.  
  
"The safe-house would probably be better than a petrol station," Harry interjected.  
  
"There's no way demons can get into the safe-house," Ron added. "We just have to make it there."  
  
"Do I need to point out that this car is not a democracy?" Dean replied with a frown.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, and God, Dean hated that tone of voice.  
  
"Fine..." Dean said, "but, I'm driving, so if those bastards get too thick, you better keep up the magic protection, unless you want to end up in a ditch."  
  
"Understood," Harry replied.  
  
"Alright then..." Dean said, and he pulled back out into traffic, pointing the Impala towards the ominous clouds in the distance, despite his better judgment.


	28. Chapter 28

They stopped for an early dinner at a truck-stop a half hour later. The fun of that morning with the EMF meter seemed a distant memory now, and the mood was heavy with worry. Harry couldn't tell if the mood was heavy because of their proximity to the Dementors, or if the mood was heavy in anticipation of encountering the Dementors. He tried to keep tabs on the Winchesters. He was used to his own reaction to the Dementors, but Dean and Sam were both far more susceptible than he was.   
  
Harry had already put in a call to Phil, who had the team tracking the Dementors and filled Harry in on their movements every twenty minutes - specifically whether the safe-house was compromised or not. So far, it looked as though the Dementor movements were simply coincidental. Why Phil couldn't find them a closer safe-house, Harry didn't ask. Though Ron did, repeatedly, in a sullen voice... especially after the fifth time Dean glared at him for pressing his knees into the back of the driver's seat.   
  
The safe-houses were for wizards, not Muggles. They didn't have to be close to major city centres, nor did they have to be abundant. They were hooked up to the Floo network. If you had the wards set up specifically for you, you could apparate onto the front stoop. With the right security clearance, you could get a port-key directly to a bedroom, if you wanted. The idea that someone might want to drive from the outskirts of Philadelphia in a 1967 Chevrolet to a safe-house and not have it take six hours never occurred to the Auror department, apparently. The truth of the matter was, that they  _were_  going to the closest safe-house. Harry thought back to the war, and how he and Hermione and Ron had apparated from all over England to Grimmauld Place, and from Malfoy Manor to Shell Cottage, and from forest to forest to forest....to Hogsmead. If they had been restricted to a car then...  
  
"Maybe we should apparate," Harry said, breaking the tense silence at the table. Dean paused with his burger half-way to his mouth and shook his head.  
  
"Dean," Sam said, "it was fine the other two times."  
  
"I'll be careful," Harry said. "It's not like I don't know what I'm dealing with."  
  
"That's exactly the problem," Dean said. "You  _don't_  know what you're dealing with. You just think you do, but you said it yourself, the de-... it's unpredictable with magic."  
  
"There are other magical means of transportation," Harry said, trying a different approach. "I could make a portkey, it'd bring us closer."  
  
"And how do you know if that would work? That it wouldn't... react to it?" Dean asked.  
  
"Well, I don't, but I highly doubt it would," Harry replied. "It works with Muggles just fine, and it's not as jarring, or as dangerous."   
  
"We're almost there," Dean said, "and we're safe in the car, from demons and Dementors, if you two can keep your animals up."  
  
Harry sighed, but nodded. Maybe he was just being paranoid.  
  
"Maybe..." Sam said, "we should split up."  
  
"What would that accomplish?" Dean asked, looking pissed off that someone had spoken again before he was able to take the bite out of his burger.  
  
"Harry could apparate with you to the safe-house," Sam explained. "It's about keeping Harry safe, isn't it? Ron can stay with me while I finish the drive - make sure I make it past the Dementors."   
  
Harry held his breath as Dean seemed to consider for a moment. He looked over at Ron, who had stayed silent throughout the whole exchange, to see him chewing a rather large mouthful of burger. Well, that explained the silence. Ron gave him a shrug that said, 'I'm fine with whatever you decide, even though I don't understand what the big deal is.'  
  
"Dean," Sam said impatiently. "You know it makes sense."  
  
Dean gave a long-suffering sigh.  
  
"Yeah," Dean said, "doesn't mean I have to like it."  
  
"Dean," Sam repeated.  
  
"Okay, okay, listen..." Dean said, "we might be making a big deal out of nothing anyway. If we run into demons, then Harry and I will go straight to the safe-house, but if it's just those Dementors, then we finish the drive together. No offense to Ron or anything, but Harry has more experience dealing with... us."  
  
Harry shot a look at Ron, to see him furrowing his brow at Dean. Harry caught Ron's eye, gave him an apologetic look, and shook his head.   
  
"I'm sure Ron understands that, as Hunters, you aren't used to working with others, and you've only just met him," Harry said slowly. "I'm sure you only mean that you know that I don't take offense when you openly distrust me, whereas Ron may be a tad more sensitive and react badly."  
  
"Uh, yeah, exactly," Dean said, and shot Ron an awkward smile. "Sorry, man, you just seem the uh... emotional type."  
  
"I am not!" Ron said and then crossed his arms and pouted. Harry laughed, and then laughed harder when Ron realized what he had just done and blushed deep red. "But... I understand. Harry's already helped you, and Sam's your brother... obviously you wouldn't trust his safety with a near stranger."  
  
"Yeah," Dean said, surprised a little. "That's exactly it."  
  
"See!" Ron said. "I do not have the emotional range of a teaspoon!"  
  
Dean looked confused, but Harry laughed.   
  
"I'll be sure to mention it to Hermione when we meet up later," he said.  
  
Harry felt the mood lighten a little after that, even though there was still a strong sense of foreboding.   
  
When they were back in the car, Ron seemed to have decided that it was a good idea to win over Dean's trust.  
  
"I saved Harry once," Ron said, "if that makes you feel any better about trusting me with Sam."  
  
"I  _can_  look after myself, you know," Sam said angrily.  
  
"Of course you can," Ron said, "but I could still murder you with a single curse while your back is turned."  
  
"Ron..." Harry said, cringing.  
  
"Not that I would!" Ron said. "I'm just saying that it's perfectly understandable for Muggles to be distrustful of Wizards. We're scary!"  
  
"Ron..." Harry tried again, wondering desperately if Ron was about to undo all the work he had done over the past week earning the Winchesters' trust.  
  
"Dude," Dean said, "I really don't know if you're helping or hurting your cause right now."  
  
"Well, anyway," Ron said, glancing out the window, "if it weren't for me, Harry would have died in his underwear at the bottom of a frozen lake, and I think that should count for something."  
  
"What were you doing in your underwear in a frozen lake?" Dean asked, with a curious glance through the rear-view mirror.  
  
"Trying to get a sword," Harry replied glumly.  
  
"A sword?" Sam asked. "Why?"  
  
"It's kind of a long story..." Harry replied dismissively. "In any case, the uh, necklace I was wearing tried to kill me while I was in the water... otherwise I would have been fine."  
  
"A necklace tried to kill you?" Dean repeated in disbelief.  
  
"It was a horcrux - had part of Voldemort's soul in it," Harry explained tiredly. "It was evil."  
  
"No shit," Dean said. "So, Ron had to pull your naked ass out of a lake? Was there mouth to mouth involved, because dude, that's love right there."  
  
"No, thank God," Harry replied.  
  
"I totally would have though," Ron added with conviction.  
  
"More than I needed to know, man," Dean laughed. "Don't worry about it. So, besides trying to get swords out of frozen lakes while wearing evil jewelery, what other crazy things has Harry done?"  
  
"Merlin," Ron said, "where do I start?!"  
  
Harry saw the twin smirks on Dean and Sam's faces, and couldn't help but groan as he sank back into the leather seat.  
  
*  
  
"...so, there's Harry having a nice chat with a spider the size of a small house, completely oblivious to the fact that we're slowly being surrounded by the thing's children. When I finally get his attention, we're pretty much doomed... and then, what do you know, the bloody Ford comes to our rescue!" Ron continued, "Remember I told you about the flying Ford, yeah? Well, it comes in, lights blazing, horn blowing, and Harry and I dive inside and hold on for dear life while the car gets us out of there. So, somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, there's a wild car with a mind of its own... and I've never been so thankful that it apparently doesn't hold a grudge against me for driving it into a tree."  
  
"Did the spider know anything useful?" Sam asks.  
  
"Damned if I can remember," Ron said. "I was too busy trying not to wet myself. I bloody hate spiders."  
  
"Well, it told us that Hagrid wasn't to blame," Harry said, "and that whatever was to blame was the enemy of the spiders."  
  
"It was still Hermione that figured it out for us, not the spiders," Ron said proudly, "and she wasn't even conscious. She's brilliant."  
  
"Really?" Harry said sarcastically. "...and to think you called her a friendless nightmare when you first met."  
  
"I was eleven!" Ron said.   
  
Harry laughed, then turned to Sam and Dean.  
  
"Did you know that Ron used to have nightmares that spiders were making him tap-dance?" he asked innocently.  
  
Both the Winchesters snorted a laugh.  
  
As Ron launched into a spectacularly hilarious defense of his subconscious, Harry gave him a smile to show that there were no hard feelings for all the embarrassing stories...which had included in no particular order: the time Gilderoy Lockheart had removed the bones from his arm, the flying Ford Anglia, and the fact that on Harry's first date he had accidentally talked about Hermione the whole time. It had all been worth it, because despite the drizzling fog they had driven into, Ron had kept the mood inside the car light and carefree.  
  
Dean launched into a story about various prank wars that he and Sam had had over the years. Ron and Harry laughed at all of them, especially when Sam cut in with how he had retaliated, and Dean made excuses as to how Sam's tricks had slipped passed his defenses. Then they started explaining about this Topa they found in Texas and these two idiots who liked to play Hunter, but didn't know what they were doing. Just as Dean was finishing up the story, Harry's mirror spoke his name.  
  
He flipped it open to find Phil's concerned face staring back at him.  
  
"Report," Harry said, curious.  
  
"The Dementors have stopped moving," Phil said. "They're hungry."  
  
"Where? Who?" Harry asked, urgently.  
  
"A Muggle village, not far off the interstate, five miles North-West of your approximate location," Phil said. "We're holding them back as best we can, but we're losing morale... we're trying to confund the Muggles into staying in their houses, but even then...."  
  
"Tell the team Ron and I will be there shortly," Harry said, snapping his phone shut. He took out his wand and had it point to Phil's location, then reached between Sam and Dean into the front seat and placed it by the dashboard. "Exit in five miles, head North-West, follow the wand."  
  
"No," Sam said, eying the wand. "We can't help them."  
  
"What?!" Harry asked, surprised and angry, just as Dean's head snapped towards Sam in surprise.  
  
"It could be a trap, we should get to the safe house," Sam said. "Besides, Dean..." Sam trailed off, biting his lower lip.  
  
"What?" Dean asked. "What about me?"  
  
"You can't be around those things," Sam said in a low tone. "You aren't..."  
  
"I'm not what, Sam?" Dean asked, "Because last I looked, Harry had given us protection. So, really, I see no reason why we can't help those people. Those things eat  _souls,_  Sam, if we can help, we sure as hell are going to."  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, growing frustrated, then seemed to change tactics. "Let the wizards handle it, it's not like we can do anything..."  
  
"We can try to keep people in their houses," Dean said. "You can see the things, maybe we can save some people from being attacked."  
  
"You can see them too," Harry added. "The pendants Phil gave you in Boston - the crystal in them conducts ambient... well, they do more than make you immune to Muggle repelling charms, they also allow you to see magical creatures and things that Muggles normally can't."  
  
"See, Sam," Dean said, "those things can't even sneak up on us, and we've got Harry and Ron here to watch our backs. We can help."  
  
"Dean, we've got more important things to worry about," Sam argued back.  
  
"More important than saving people, Sam?" Dean replied. "I don't think so. I don't care what you do, but I'm helping. I need to do this."  
  
Harry held his breath as he watched Sam clench and unclench his jaw.  
  
"Fine," Sam bit out, then he turned and pointed at Harry and Ron, "but you have to stay with us at all times!"  
  
"Yes, sir," Ron said. Harry just nodded, until Sam turned back to glare out the front window.  
  
They came up to the small town quickly once they exited the interstate. The clouds hung low and heavy over it, and Harry could see flashes of black swooping, while flashes of silvery-blue followed at their heels. Dean sped through the empty streets, and Harry could see cars haphazardly pulled to the side of the road...a few held some Muggles who were weeping. Harry's wand directed to the centre of town, where there was a large open park. Phil stood beside an oak tree, talking to Deacon and Allison. They all looked pale.   
  
Harry had his car door open and was running over to Phil before Dean even stopped the car. He vaguely heard the doors slamming and swearing coming from behind him.   
  
"Phil!" Harry called. "What's the status?"   
  
Phil turned a grateful eye to Harry. Deacon and Allison also looked relieved to see him.   
  
"We need a morale boost," Phil said. "The kids are doing great... fucking kids always do better with Dementors than us old folk, but they need to know you're here, Harry. They haven't seen you for days."  
  
"Where have you got them fighting?" Harry asked.  
  
"Deacon," Phil said, "take Harry to the north and west teams. Harry, have your Patronus follow Allison; she'll lead it to the south and east teams. If the teams see your Patronus, they'll know you're here."  
  
"Why do you have the team divided?" Harry asked, concerned.  
  
"Shepherding. I've got a containment unit standing by," Phil answered. "If we can corral them into this park, we can capture them. They attacked first, we've got the mandate to stop studying them and start forcibly containing them."  
  
"Who?" Harry asked, horrified.  
  
"Some poor Muggle," Phil said, "just outside of town."  
  
"Goddamn it," Harry swore.  
  
"Wasn't anything we could have done, Harry," Phil said. "It happened too quick. Now, they all want some more, it seems."  
  
"Alright," Harry said and turned to Deacon, "let's go."  
  
Harry held his left arm out for Deacon to take but, just before Deacon grabbed it, a large hand came down on it instead. Harry was grasped tightly and turned around until all he could see was a very broad plaid chest. He looked up, and found the chest was attached to an extremely angry Sam Winchester.  
  
"I thought I told you to stay with us at all times," Sam ground out.   
  
"I was just..." Harry tried, but Sam only tightened the grip on his arm. Harry watched in confusion as Sam used his other hand to pull off the magic pendant around his neck.  
  
"You..." Sam said, as he tested the weight of the chain the pendant hung from, "...have to..." he continued, looping the chain around Harry's left wrist and tying it tightly, "...stay..." he then looped the other end of the chain around his own wrist and tied it tightly, the pendant hanging uselessly between their two hands, "...with at least one of us!"  
  
"Mr. Potter, sir?" Deacon asked, eyes wide. Harry tore his own wide eyes away from Sam's angry ones, and realized that Phil, Deacon and Allison...and Ron were all looking at him as though he had just been abducted by an alien. Dean was just looking apologetic.  
  
Harry was at a loss for words. Should he yell at Sam for undermining his authority, causing the wizards to retaliate and risk alienating the Winchesters - not only losing defenders against the demons that were after him, but also possibly embittering the two Hunters against wizards? Should he allow Sam to undermine his authority and lose face in front of his team - which would have the opposite affect on morale than his presence was supposed to have, and no doubt pique the curiosity as to who Dean and Sam  _really_  were, thus probably allowing the wizards to capture Sam and Dean, which would no doubt affect their ability to stop the apocalypse negatively? His head swam for a second, and then suddenly the answer came to him.  
  
"Hey, it's alright," Harry said calmly, as though he were talking to Teddy after a nightmare, "I know Dementors are scary. You can come with me and Deacon, I promise I won't leave you alone. And Ron will look after your brother." Harry watched as Sam blanched, then he slipped his hand into Sam's below where their wrists were tied, which caused Sam's eyes to widen further.   
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Harry said, and the Stag sprang to life. He then turned back to Deacon, immensely grateful that Sam had not recovered from the hand-holding yet. "Deacon, Allison, let's go!"   
  
Deacon shot a sympathetic look towards Sam, and then took off running. Harry gripped Sam's hand harder and pulled him along, while Allison and Harry's Stag ran off in the opposite direction.   
  
Harry risked a glance at Sam as they ran, to find him glaring at him.  
  
"You undermined my authority, Sam," Harry said quietly, between breaths. "What did you expect me to do?"  
  
"I can't believe you..." Sam said, huffing a little.  
  
"You got what you wanted," Harry said.   
  
"I didn't want to come here at all," Sam ground out.  
  
"It's my  _job_ , Sam," Harry said.  
  
"Just..." Sam said, keeping his eyes fixed on Deacon's running form ahead of them, "...you can let go of my hand now."  
  
* *  
  
Dean was laughing his head off, which was really quite remarkable, given how cold and miserable he had been ever since they left the interstate.  
  
"Man, Harry's got balls talking to Sam like that!" Dean said, now that it was just him, Ron, and Phil left in the park.   
  
"I can't believe he got away with  _leashing_ Harry!" Ron replied. "Not only that, it's an extremely  _short_  leash. I think your brother is my new hero. Wait 'til I tell Ginny!"  
  
"Fuckin' unbelievable," Phil muttered.  
  
"You could say that again, man," Dean said, "but at least we know Sam's got Harry's back. Now, what can Ron and I do?"  
  
"What?" Phil said, confused.  
  
"Well," Dean said slowly, "you've got a town being attacked by supernatural creatures, and you have an extra Wizard-cop and a Hunter with a small arsenal in the trunk of his car at your disposal... so, what do you want us to do?"  
  
"Oh," Phil said, "but... Hunters can't fight Dementors"   
  
"If they're corporeal, it means something can kill them," Dean shrugged. "I'm willing to throw things at them until something sticks."  
  
Dean watched as Phil smiled softly and then nodded.   
  
"Alright," Phil said. "How about... Ron, you go help out the south team, and Dean... maybe you could drive around - make sure the Muggles are either safely in their cars or houses... preferably, away from this park."  
  
"Sure thing," Dean said, just as Ron said, "No."  
  
"What?" Phil and Dean both said together.  
  
"Harry told me to stay with Dean," Ron replied with a shrug.  
  
"Man, he was just teasing Sam..." Dean said.  
  
"No," Ron said, "if he said it, he meant it. I  _know_  Harry. Plus, he  _told_ me what happened to you, I cannot, in good conscience, leave you alone in a town full of Dementors."  
  
Dean wanted so much to tell Ron to go fuck himself, that he could take care of himself just fine, but he had been feeling the cold creeping into his bones for a while now. The memories of screams tickled his mind. He nodded.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, "fine."  
  
"I'll help you keep the Muggles safe," Ron said. "Besides, I like your car."  
  
Dean smiled, and clapped Ron on the shoulder, then turned back to Phil.  
  
"We'll chase any Dementors we find your way, Phil, so keep that containment unit on speed-dial."  
  
"On what?" Phil and Ron both said.  
  
"Never mind," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Let's go, we've got work to do."


	29. Chapter 29

Sam, Harry, and Deacon, made a wide circle and came up behind the North Team, who stood in a line while silvery-blue animals - Sam couldn't tell which one was whose - darted forward and back and side to side in front of them. Sam realized that the wizards were using their Patronuses as sheep dogs. As soon as they approached, Sam felt the chill in the air lessen, and the manic desperation that had been building inside of him went along with it.   
  
"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, and Sam was surprised to hear the genuine concern in his voice. Harry tugged at their joined wrists to make Sam look at him.  
  
"I'm alright," Sam said truthfully. He couldn't see the Dementors, not really; there was a heavy fog just ahead of the shepherding Patronuses, and occasionally there would be a flutter of something black within it.  
  
"Good, come on," Harry said, and tugged Sam forward.   
  
Deacon was still ahead of them, and Sam watched as he leaned over to the closest wizard and said something. The wizard immediately snapped to attention and then turned to look at Harry and Sam, giving them an extremely professional nod. The wizard couldn't be more than twenty, Sam realized. He looked down the line and realized they were all young.  
  
"Fewer life-experiences," Harry whispered, "less time in the job... fewer memories."  
  
Sam nodded, realizing his expression must have given away his shock.  
  
"First time I saw a Dementor," Harry continued, "I was thirteen. It stood in the doorway and I fainted. I was the only kid in the whole school to faint."  
  
Harry pulled Sam towards the line of wizards before Sam could respond. He kept his mouth shut as Harry went down the line, telling everyone what a great job they were doing, asking some how long they were able to maintain their Patronus before recasting and, no matter what answer they gave, Harry would look impressed and congratulate them. Sam found himself wishing that his Dad had tried the positive-reinforcement approach, rather than the 'you better do better next time or your brother will die' approach.  
  
Sam worried that Harry was distracting the team too much because, the longer they stayed there, the more the Dementors seemed to resist being pushed towards the centre of town. They started getting close enough to the line of Patronuses that Sam could see them. It didn't hurt his head like the last time; he glanced down to where the crystal pendant was dangling between his and Harry's hands, and figured that it must be close enough to him to still work.  
  
After Harry had spoken to all of the North team, they followed Deacon to the West team to repeat the process. It was the space in between meeting up with the teams that was the hardest for Sam. He'd start remembering the way Dean screamed as the hell-hounds tore into him, the way the blood looked circling the drain, as Sam cut Dean's torn clothes off his corpse, and washed him so that he wouldn't get his favorite black t-shirt all bloody.  
  
"Deacon," Harry called from beside Sam, "could you..."  
  
Sam pulled his head up and looked at Deacon dully, wondering if maybe Harry was tired of jogging. Sam's brow furrowed as Deacon gave him a slightly wide-eyed look, and then pointed his wand to their left. A silvery-blue sparrow erupted from the end of it and darted towards the centre of town, driving back a black figure, then looped back and flew along side Sam for a bit, before darting back towards the centre of town again.  
  
It was a really pretty bird, Sam thought, then he realized what had happened.   
  
"Thanks..." Sam said, so that Deacon could hear him as well. Deacon gave him a small smile and continued to jog a little bit ahead of them.  
  
"Don't forget about your bracelet, Sam," Harry said, softly so that only Sam could hear him, "you have to recognize the symptoms, and then concentrate on it."  
  
Sam nodded.   
  
Half-way through talking to the West team, Harry's Patronus came trotting back to him, and Sam was happy to see it. Just like with the North team, after they had been there for a couple of minutes, the Dementors seemed to be resisting more, and Sam was glad they had another Patronus to drive back the chill in the air.  
  
Afterward, Harry decided that they'd head back towards Phil and help with containment once the Dementors were driven to the park. On the way there, they would be looking out for Muggle civilians that might need assistance. Sam looked into the fog covering the town, shot a grateful glance at Harry's Patronus, and then followed the tug on his wrist where Harry and he were still tied together.  
  
*  
  
"...Harry's with Sam and I'm with Dean. The plan is to contain the Dementors, but we have to make sure the Muggle population is safe."  
  
Dean could feel them; it was getting worse... the screams, his own, others... he tried to think of bulls-eyeing those bottles, playing with his ring on his finger. He felt a little better.  
  
"Ron, I'm not sure you should-"   
  
Dean turned down another street; the fog was a little thicker here. He wondered where Sam had gone when he was dead for those two days.  
  
"Don't worry, love. I just wanted to let you know where we were, in case you went back to the safe-house and worried we weren't there. Has your research turned up anything?"  
  
Up ahead, he saw some people out of their house. One of them was definitely feeling something. Dean pulled over.  
  
"I think so, yes, I just have to finish this translation-"  
  
"Great, Hermione; listen, I have to go, Dean's spotted something."  
  
"Ok, but Ron, this translation-"  
  
"I'm sure you'll get it, I have to go. Love you."  
  
Dean got out of the car, just as Ron snapped his mirror shut. A few yards ahead, there was a sobbing woman, sitting on the curb with a stroller, and a man bent over her. Dean heard Ron's footsteps fall into sync with his as they approached.  
  
"Sir, ma'am, is everything alright?" Dean said kindly.  
  
The man looked at the woman in confused exasperation.  
  
"I think it might be post-partum, though she's been fine for the past few weeks," he replied, voice edged with concern. "She just won't stop crying."  
  
"Ma'am?" Dean asked, but the woman seemed to be sobbing too much to answer.  
  
"How about you go inside and put on a nice cup of tea," Ron suggested.  
  
"We were going to walk over to my mother's house," the man replied. "She's expecting us... Nancy was fine an hour ago..."  
  
"You know," Dean said, "similar thing happened to my wife. I think my buddy here is right. A hot drink and a nap, and she'll be ok...actually, you know what really worked for... Lisa... was chocolate. You got any chocolate? I bet if you take your wife inside, give her some chocolate, and put her to bed, she'll be fine by morning. I'm sure you could call your mother up and explain that Nancy's feeling a little under the weather."  
  
"Chocolate and a nap?" the man replied, confused. "This is more serious than that, I think."  
  
"Hey, Ron," Dean said. "You still have those Snickers bars. I bet Nancy here would love a Snickers."  
  
"Oh, sure," Ron said, producing a Snickers bar immediately. Dean unwrapped the end and crouched down next to Nancy. She looked briefly at him, but Dean wasn't entirely sure she was in the present... Dean's own mind kept snapping back and forth: Woman sobbing on the curb, woman screaming in hell.   
  
"Listen, mister, I really don't think..." the man was starting to say. Dean ignored him and broke off a piece of chocolate with his fingers.  
  
"Here, Nancy, I'll make it easy," he said gently, and pushed the chocolate past her lips gently.   
  
"What do you...!" Dean saw the man's arm dart out towards him, but Ron was quicker and grabbed the man's wrist before he could touch Dean.  
  
"It's alright," Ron said calmly, "it'll help."  
  
Dean watched as Nancy's eyes finally focused on him, and her sobbing stopped, then she was chewing and swallowing. Dean smiled.  
  
"Thank you," Nancy whispered.  
  
"Not a problem," Dean said with a wink, and then wrapped Nancy's hand around the rest of the chocolate bar. "Now, I think you should go inside, and eat all the chocolate in the house, and don't come out until morning. Spoil yourself a little. You deserve it."  
  
Nancy's lips twitched at the corners, and Dean counted it as a victory. He helped her stand, and gave a smile to her bewildered husband. Without another word, Nancy turned and pushed the stroller back into the house.  
  
"Uh, thanks?" her husband said, and then followed her back inside.  
  
"Thanks for having my back, man," Dean said, turning back to the car. "Poor woman, I wonder what the hell happened to her..."  
  
She hadn't been screaming in hell. No, that was someone else. Thousands. Thousands of screams, his own too... out loud, then in his head - though the blood was beautiful, the way it dripped slow across their soul's flesh... somewhere he was still screaming...  
  
"Dean," Ron said, and Dean found a chocolate bar being shoved at him. "You should have one too."  
  
"Yeah, yeah..." Dean said absent-mindedly, but dutifully ate. Man, Snickers were delicious, and that Nancy woman had been pretty attractive for a hysterical chick.  
  
Dean and Ron hadn't gone far when they spotted a group of men, glumly walking down the road. Dean was contemplating leaving them alone, when movement at the end of the street caught his attention. There were black shapes, like robed skeletons, flying slowly towards them. They were still far away, only figures in the mist on the horizon, but Dean knew instinctively what would happen as soon as they caught sight of the humans and those men were unknowingly walking straight towards them.   
  
"Those," Dean said, voice rough, "are Dementors?"  
  
"Yes, we've got to get these men out of the open," Ron answered, already opening his door, "and quickly."  
  
Dean didn't bother parking; he just stopped his car in the middle of the street and got out. He turned the ring on his finger, and thought of that weekend with Lisa Braedan all those years ago, and then followed Ron up to the men.  
  
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Ron was saying, circling around in front of the men, so that he was blocking their way, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to return to your homes immediately. There's a convict on the loose and he's armed and dangerous."  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow at the excuse, but immediately switched to cop-mode and stood behind Ron.  
  
"You don't look like a cop, man," one of the guys told Ron. "Why should we believe you? Besides, streets are deserted, don't you think the cops would be everywhere?"  
  
"We're undercover," Ron continued. "Now please turn around and go to whose-ever house is closest and remain indoors."  
  
"What is this, Russia? Last I checked, we lived in a free country!" the guy replied. "You can't make me do anything, cop or no cop!"  
  
Dean could see that some of the guy's friends were looking concerned, and some were looking just as skeptical, if not as angry as the guy who was yelling at Ron.  
  
"Excuse me and my partner for a moment," Dean said, pulling Ron backwards a couple of steps and then whispering in his ear. "What  _have_  you guys done with the cops in this town?"  
  
"Confunded them and confined them to their headquarters," Ron whispered back. "They only ever get in the way, and we can change their memories later."  
  
"Awesome," Dean said. "Try to reason with them again."   
  
Ron furrowed his brow, but turned and once again tried to order the men back to their houses. The main guy was getting more confrontational. Dean wondered if maybe some people had different reactions to Dementors than crushing depression as he turned quickly and sprinted back to Impala. He glanced towards the end of the street to see the Dementors had moved closer...god, no wonder Sammy had been so freaked when Dean came to, if that was what he had seen. Those things sent chills down his spine, and not metaphorically. Dean concentrated on his ring, and thought about all the fun that he was about to have.  
  
"Listen, you fascist foreign pig!" the guy was yelling, as Dean returned to Ron's side. "You and your buddy want to try to stop us, go right ahead!"  
  
Dean cocked the shotgun with one hand and steadied his aim.  
  
"How about you listen," Dean said coldly. "My friend here was telling the truth, there IS a convict loose in this town. He just didn't say who it was. Now, he doesn't like it when I kill people, so we made this agreement that if I see someone I want to toast, I have to give them five minutes to get out of my sight before I act. Seems to me, you've been yelling at my poor friend here for four of those minutes..."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes as the men all fled.  
  
"I'll be driving around and if I see you outside again....!" Dean yelled after them.  
  
"Bloody hell, you're  _mental_!" Ron exclaimed once the men were out of sight.  
  
"Whatever works," Dean said with a shrug. "Nice try with the convict line."  
  
"It works in Britain," Ron said softly.  
  
"Huh, well, welcome to America," Dean replied. "Now come on, I'm really too close to those ugly motherfuckers."  
  
Dean threw the shotgun into the back seat as he slid into the car. He really was too close to those things. It was so damn cold, he wondered why he couldn't see his breath...and god, why wouldn't the screaming stop, if they would just stop screaming...  
  
"...Dean! Dean!" Dean's vision refocused and he found himself staring blankly out the front window. The Dementors were nearly on top of them, how was he conscious? Why did he have a small silvery-blue dog in his lap?   
  
"Shit...I..." Dean said, throwing the car into reverse and screeching the tires as he tore backwards away from the Dementors.  
  
"Good, good," Ron was saying, "drive faster. You're doing well, just stay with me, for Merlin's sake... I should have learned to drive. Hermione keeps telling me to..."  
  
"You drove your last car into a tree after running out of gas in  _mid-air_ ," Dean replied, backing onto a cross street so that he could turn around. "Like I would ever let you behind the wheel of my baby."  
  
Ron laughed. The Dementors were a little bit further away now, but it was as though they had caught the scent. They were no longer taking their time floating down the street, they were making a bee-line for the Impala.  
  
"You think they'll follow us straight to the centre of town?" Dean asked Ron.  
  
"Well, there's one way to find out," Ron replied. Dean turned the car and headed back towards the park.  
  
"Thanks for, umm...the dog," Dean said, gesturing to the small dog now wedged between Dean's lap and the driver's-side door. Its face looked earnestly up at him with cute, wide, dog-eyes.  
  
"As much for me as it was for you," Ron replied with a shrug.  
  
"Yeah, then why's it on  _my_  lap," Dean asked. This was him admitting that he needed the help, and they both knew it, but he didn't care.  
  
"My aim's always been a bit lousy," Ron smiled.   
  
"Sure," Dean said, then slammed on the brakes as Harry, Sam, and a silvery-blue deer ran out of a side-street in front of him.   
  
Ron's Patronus scrambled back over his lap and onto Ron's as Dean tore open his door. He was about to yell at Sam for not looking before crossing the road, when he noticed the stunned expressions on Sam and Harry's faces as they looked past him behind the Impala. Harry's deer blinked out of existance.  
  
"Holy shit!" Sam said.  
  
Dean turned and saw a cloud of rain, snow, and black robed skeletons rolling down the street towards him.   
  
"Well, don't just stand there, get in the damn car!" Dean yelled and both Harry and Sam snapped out of their shock and scrambled for the back seat, stumbling over each other since they were both still tied together at the wrist.  
  
"Recast! Recast! Recast!" Ron started yelling at Harry as soon as the doors were closed and Dean was tearing down the road with his eyes anxiously darting to the rear-view mirror.  
  
"There's not room, Ron!" Harry said. "You'll have to keep yours up. Come on..."  
  
Dean looked at the dog beside him on the seat, and realized that he could see through it a little. Oh shit...Dean wasn't warm now, and if he blacked out again while driving this fast...  
  
"Sam, Dean, the ring and bracelet!" Harry ordered. "Think about when Sam won that division trophy! Remember the prank war in Texas! Ron - Rose and Hugo! Your wedding!"  
  
Dean thought about everything he could, but he had to drive, so mostly he just thought about how much he loved his car, and how he didn't want it to be smashed again, because it was such a beautiful car, and he had used all Bobby's spare Chevy parts already.  
  
He could hear Harry whispering to Ron over the backseat, snippets of words - "flowers", "beautiful," "loves you", "children" and he realized with a glance at Ron's dog, that Harry was talking him through it all. Reminding him of everything wonderful in his life.  
  
Finally they pulled up to the park, and Dean came to a screeching halt. Phil only glanced at them out of the corner of his eye briefly, before returning all his attention to the mirror he held, continuing to give orders to the teams.  
  
"Phil!" Harry yelled, dragging Sam behind him, as they all left the safety of the car and ran up to the older man.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" Phil said. "The north and west teams have lost sight of the..."  
  
Dean watched as Phil finally looked over at them - over at them and then behind them.  
  
"Fuck. Me." Phil said, eyes-wide.  
  
"I told you!" Harry said. "I told you they enjoy the pain! They always go after the worst!"  
  
Phil turned back to his mirror.  
  
"Deacon, Rodney!" Phil said. "I've found your Dementors, report to the park at once! Allison, Ahmed, step it up! We need the rest of them!"  
  
Dean turned to watch the black cloud roll closer.  
  
"Sam," Dean said, "let's get everything out of the trunk,;something has to hurt these sons of bitches!"  
  
As Dean turned to run back to the car, he heard Phil yelling into his mirror.  
  
"Containment! We fucking need containment!"


	30. Chapter 30

Harry was yanked backwards as Sam took off to follow Dean to the car. This was ridiculous. That stupid chain was digging a line into Harry's wrist.  
  
"Sam!" Harry said, trying to pry the knot loose without dropping his wand, while stumbling to keep up with Sam's long legs. "This is getting ridiculous, I'm going to fucking cut this..."  
  
"Dude, you think I like having my right hand tied to a wizard?" Sam responded, looking over his shoulder. "You ran off  _immediately_  after I told you not to. We shouldn't even  _be_  here..."  
  
"You can't expect me to go into battle with a bloody Muggle half-giant pulling me around on a leash!?" Harry replied, only to have Dean cut off whatever reply Sam was about to give.  
  
"Both of you shut up..." Dean said, popping the trunk, "...and tell me if you think fire would have any effect." Dean was holding a weird looking red can that had something taped around it. There was a slightly unnerving gleam in his eyes. Harry sighed.  
  
"Nothing you have is going to work," Harry said.  
  
"Have you ever  _tried_  fire?" Dean asked.  
  
"Well, no," Harry said, "but-"  
  
"How about electrocution?" Dean cut Harry off, holding up an odd looking gun.  
  
"No, Dean!" Sam said, and Harry was surprised to hear a note of fear in his voice. "It's been _raining._ "  
  
Dean shrugged. He tossed Sam a shot-gun, a handgun, and a knife, then stuffed a handful of ammunition into Sam's jacket pocket. Dean himself picked up the weird red can, a handgun, two different knives, and his own handful of ammunition. Harry was still trying to pry the knot loose. A severing charm that close to his wrist was probably a bad idea, but it was tempting, especially when Sam turned and actually  _slapped_  his hand away... stupid Winchesters, it was all pointless, all of it was pointless...  
  
"Harry," Dean said, "can you... I need..."  
  
Harry snapped his attention away from his wrist to see Dean turning his ring over and over on his finger, where it glowed a deep blue. There was frost forming on the car windows, the grass, Harry could see their breath...  
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " a voice said behind Harry, and Ron's terrier darted between his legs and ran circles around Dean's feet.  
  
"Sorry, mate, I was getting the team status from Phil," Ron said. "The South-East isn't moving fast enough. The Dementors following us will be in the park in two minutes at most, but the others are still ten minutes out. It doesn't do any good to get the Containment Unit here and only be able to contain half the problem, and there's no way that we'll be able to withstand the onslaught of the ones following us while we wait for the other team. Not when we can't avoid being surrounded."  
  
Harry saw Ron glance at Sam and Dean and realized what he meant. The Dementors would come straight for the worst ones...feed off the worst ones. Having the Winchesters there was like painting a bulls-eye, and in an open area like this...  
  
"Shit," Harry muttered, realizing that Sam might have been right; they shouldn't be there.  
  
"We need Dean," Ron said. Harry stared at Ron. Had he really just said...?  
  
"It's just Sam that has demon in him, right?" Ron asked casually. Harry felt his jaw drop; oh shit, if the Winchesters thought he told...  
  
He risked a glance at Sam to see him looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights, then he turned to Dean who was staring at him with a distrusting angry look. Harry assumed that his own shock must have been evidence enough of his innocence, though, because Dean lost the look of distrust pretty quick, and instead took a step forward - a protective step forward, Harry realized. He was trying to get closer to Sam.  
  
"Relax," Ron said. "Harry didn't tell me... well, not really, it was sort of obvious once I thought about it. But it _is_  just Sam, right?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," Sam said.  
  
"Good," Ron replied, "I'm going to apparate with Dean to the South-East, then we're going to run like hell back to the centre of town. It's the only way."  
  
Harry's mind was still reeling from the fact that Ron had just asked Dean if he had demon blood in him like his brother, as though it was the most casual question in the world, but it sounded to him like Ron wanted to...  
  
"Wait, you're going to use me as  _bait_ ?!" Dean said, just as Sam said, "Hell no! Harry and I will go, Harry's apparated with me before, I'll be fine... I-"  
  
"How many Dementors were chasing you and Harry when you ran out in front of the car?" Ron asked.  
  
"Ten, twenty, maybe," Harry replied.  
  
"We had about fifty," Ron said. "Apparently, four months in hell trumps the combined total of yours and Harry's miserable lives."  
  
"No," Sam said, insisting.  
  
"We don't have time to argue," Ron said, moving to Dean's side. "We've got less than two minutes now. Dean?"  
  
"Yeah, alright," Dean said, "let's do it."  
  
Dean held out his arm for Ron to grab, and Harry watched as they both turned and disappeared. Ron's Patronus winked out of existence as a consequence, but Harry knew that Ron would recast it immediately upon arrival.   
  
Harry glanced up at Sam to see him looking desperately at the empty space where his brother had just stood.   
  
"Ron will look after him, he'll be fine," Harry offered. Sam pulled his right hand above his head, forcing Harry left hand up, and his body automatically swung towards Sam, who planted his other fist into Harry's shirt and glared at him.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to be in charge," Sam said angrily. "Why didn't you stop him?!"   
  
"Sam..." Harry said, preparing to defend himself, but then he saw the tears in Sam's eyes and realized what was happening. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "  
  
His stag sprang to life and Sam seemed to come back to himself a little. He lowered his right arm and smoothed out Harry's shirt, and then turned to wipe at his eyes. Harry looked away, and then wished he hadn't.  
  
Harry watched as the street-lamps all turned on. There, rushing towards them, was a cloud of Dementors so thick, that they actually blocked out the setting sun.  
  
Harry heard the pops and cracks as the North and West teams apparated to Phil's position, and he also heard the curses as they saw what awaited them on arrival. Thinking of home, he focused on his Patronus, and then turned to address his men.  
  
"We've got to corral them into the park and HOLD for the South-East group! You understand! HOLD! DELTA ALPHA PATTERN FOUR! DEACON ON POINT, PHIL ON REAR-LINE. GO!"  
  
A series of pops and then a rush of silver and blue followed, and Harry squeezed Sam's wrist - feeling both Sam's bracelet and the chain that joined them beneath his hand.  
  
"I've got you," Harry said.  
  
  
*      
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Dean heard Ron say as soon as he came out the other end of the straw he had just been sucked through. Oddly, he wasn't that nauseated this time around; perhaps it was because he had other things on his mind - like the fact that he could see five Dementors at the end of the block, and he knew there were more waiting somewhere in the fog behind those ones.  
  
"Hey!" Ron yelled down the street towards the floating black figures. "You ugly bastards hungry?! This bloke's been to Hell! He's bloody DELICIOUS!"  
  
"And you think  _I'm_  insane?!" Dean said in utter disbelief.   
  
"Whatever works," Ron shrugged, then Dean could have sworn the guy winked at him. Wizards, man... what would his Dad say...  
  
"Come on, we better start running!" Ron said, slapping Dean in the arm to get him moving. Dean looked up to see that the Dementors had heard Ron loud and clear, because they were now heading straight towards them... fairly quickly.  
  
"Not even I can run that fast," Dean said. "Come on, I have a better idea."  
  
Dean ran to the nearest parked car, ripped the aerial off, and then used it to jimmy the lock on the door. All under a minute, just the way Dad had taught him. He flicked the lock on the passenger side for Ron, and then reached under the steering wheel until he found the ignition wires.  
  
"Come on, come on, come on..." Dean chanted as he crossed the wires. The engine roared to life, and Dean shot Ron a relieved look. Ron was smiling widely at him.  
  
"You're brilliant!" Ron said. "You have to show me how to do that!"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Dean said, as he threw the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, "but maybe later. I'm a little bit busy being delicious right now."  
  
*      
  
Harry and Sam took up position at the South-East corner, knowing that not only was it the furthest from the thick cloud of Dementors, but it was also the direction Dean would be returning from. Now, Harry was grateful that they were tied at the wrist, because it meant he could feel every shiver from Sam, every sign that it was getting to be too much. He tried to keep his Patronus close, but he also had a duty to keep his team safe, and it was hard to juggle both protecting Sam and keeping tabs on team positioning and health.  
  
The containment unit arrived in moments. They set up around the park quickly. Containing a single Dementor was complicated, containing a hundred or more was an intricate process that had to be performed perfectly. Harry tried to explain it to Sam, in an effort to keep Sam's attention from the empty streets to the South-East.  
  
"It's sort of like a devil's trap," Harry said, "except instead of lines of ink, it's lines of spells and wards. You have to preform them at the exact right time or it doesn't work. They've only got one shot at this; it's why we need to get all the Dementors within it, not just half."  
  
"What if it doesn't work?" Sam asked.  
  
Harry paused. What if it didn't? There'd been failed containment wards in Britain after the war. Harry still remembered the mad rush to set up again, the increased ferocity of the Dementors...  
  
"It'll work," Harry said. _It had to._  
  
*    *  
  
"If Harry didn't tell you, how'd you know?" Dean asked, as they sped along the streets, collecting more and more Dementors in their wake.  
  
"You guys weren't exactly subtle," Ron said. "You and Harry both practically forbade apparating, but then Sam suggested that Harry apparate with you to the safe-house while he drove, and you were fine with that... and then you told Sam that  _he_  could see the Dementors, before you knew that the pendant meant that you could as well... so, yeah, I just put it together. Harry didn't have to tell me."  
  
"Fine," Dean said. "You figured out that Sam was a freak, but how do you make the jump to knowing that it's because he's got demon blood? Wizards don't know anything about demons, and most Hunters wouldn't even figure out the demon blood thing..."  
  
"Well," Ron said slightly sheepishly, "Harry  _did_ kind of tell me that part."  
  
"I'm going to kill that..." Dean muttered. He couldn't believe that the  _one_  thing he had forbade Harry from revealing...  
  
"No! He didn't know he did!" Ron said quickly. "It was the way he... listen... when Harry told us about you and Sam, he started by saying that your mother was killed by a demon when Sam was a baby."  
  
"Yeah? So?" Dean asked.  
  
"Then he said that he and Sam had a lot in common," Ron said. Dean waited for Ron to get to the part where Harry spilled the beans.  
  
"And then...?" Dean prompted.  
  
"That's what he said," Ron replied, "that him and Sam had a lot in common."  
  
"Wait," Dean said, trying to stay calm, "are you telling me that Harry has demon blood in him?"  
  
"No," Ron said, "but Harry's mother was also killed when he was a baby - she died in his nursery."  
  
"Like Sam..." Dean said, "but... I thought that was that evil wizard dude..."  
  
"It was," Ron said, "but it made Harry..." Ron paused, as though he wasn't sure if he should continue. "You can't tell him I told you this... but Harry was a horcrux."  
  
"What?" Dean said. "Like that evil necklace? How is that even possible?"  
  
"We don't know, it just is" Ron replied, "but that's how I figured it out. I figured the demon must have done something similar to Sam and that's why Harry had said that. I didn't know it was demon-blood. I just figured, well, maybe Sam had a bit of the demon in him, you know? Like Harry did with Voldemort."  
  
"So, Harry has the soul of an evil wizard inside of him?" Dean asked.  
  
"No, not anymore," Ron answered. "It was destroyed during the war - nearly killed Harry. Actually, according to Harry, it did briefly."  
  
Dean felt the pieces falling into place. Harry telling them that he had died once. The scar on his chest. The answer of 'he killed something other than me.'  
  
"...and Merlin am I happy it was destroyed," Ron was saying. "It was a bit scary sometimes. I mean, we didn't know about the horcrux thing until after it was gone, and Harry was always a bit strange, but just when I thought we had things under control, he'd develop some strange ability... talking to snakes, having visions..."  
  
"Dude!" Dean replied, "It's the same with Sam, only we know what it is, and I tell him to stop, but he won't listen..."  
  
"Hermione tried to get Harry to stop walking around in Voldemort's head," Ron said, "but he insisted that it was better to know your enemy and all that. It wasn't  _good_ though, because it meant that the enemy could see us, and he'd get so pale and shaky..."  
  
"Right!" Dean said, "I know exactly what you mean."  
  
"So..." Ron said, smiling at him, "are we okay? You won't kill Harry."  
  
"Nah," Dean replied looking over at Ron, "No one should die more than once."  
  
"Brilliant," Ron said, and Dean turned his attention back to the road in front of him...a road blocked by Dementors.  
  
"Son of a bitch!"  
  
*    *  
  
Sam felt the crushing cold before he heard the car, and he heard the car before he saw it. The screech of tires, the crunch of steel as it sideswiped a parked car as it rounded the corner. The headlights swung into the park and Sam watched as the streetlights all turned on behind the white hatchback.  
  
There was a crunch as the car hit the fence, and Sam was already running over, dragging Harry by the wrist. The doors flung open and both Dean and Ron fell out of the car, then pulled themselves up to standing.   
  
Ron had obviously hit his head at some point, maybe when they sideswiped that car. There was a line of blood dripping down from his forehead and as Sam got close he could see that the passenger side window was smashed, the side-mirror gone.   
  
" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Ron said, just as Sam arrived. Ron's small dog reappeared and Ron directed it immediately to run around Dean's feet.  
  
"Dean!" Sam said, concern growing like the cold in his bones...the ever present thought that Dean wasn't going to make it, that Sam couldn't save him, could never save him, no matter what he did...  
  
"I'm okay, Sam," Dean said, and he was already reaching into the car and fumbling for the handmade flame-thrower.  
  
"Ron?" Harry called, and Sam could hear the open concern in his voice. Ron was smiling, but Sam could see the way the silver-blue dog was fading in and out. It never disappeared, but it was unstable at best.   
  
"I'm alright," Ron said, "jus' hit m'head, dizzy."  
  
Harry flipped open his mirror and Sam heard him order the South-East team to the park immediately. There were popping noises, and Sam felt the cold lessen with each new silvery-blue animal that appeared along with the wizards.  
  
"Holy shit, sir!" someone with a middle-eastern accent said to Sam and Harry's right.   
  
"Understatement, Ahmed," Harry said. "Holding pattern delta alpha four. We need to get them inside the designated containment zone. Order your team accordingly. Same goes for you, Allison." Sam turned to see the petite blonde woman standing just behind them, and then jumped when he realized that her Patronus was a grizzly bear almost as tall as he was.   
  
"Get these Patronuses on the other side of those Dementors," Harry continued. "Circle and surround. We're still playing the sheep dogs. Phil called in a special unit to play the fence."  
  
"Aye, sir," Allison and Ahmed both said, and then turned and flipped open their own communication mirrors and started issuing commands as they ran off.   
  
The sky was black now, and Sam knew that if it wasn't for Harry's deer pressed against his side, and the dog currently making loops around Dean's ankles as he loaded his gun, they'd both have passed out by now. Their bracelet and ring Patronuses were fine for a few Dementors, but there were far too many here. No one person could survive this, Sam thought, not even if they had a fully corporeal Patronus... not even Allison with her grizzly bear could survive this... none of them were going to survive...  
  
"Sam!" Harry said, and Sam shook his head to clear it. "Stay focused. I think your brother has run off with a flame thrower."  
  
"What?!" Sam said, eyes madly searching for Dean through the darkness. Ron was still leaning against the car, but his wand and his eyes were focused towards their right, and Sam realized that Ron was still trying to keep the dog at Dean's feet...while his brother darted down the street he had just driven out of.  
  
"Damn it! DEAN!" Sam yelled, and took off running after him, dragging Harry and Harry's Patronus behind him. He rounded the corner just in time to see a Dementor descend down and head straight for Dean, who stopped and braced himself, holding the home-made flame-thrower in front of him with a lighter poised to ignite it.  
  
"Dean! I don't think..." Harry yelled, just as the Dementor got close enough for Dean to pull the trigger and light the fire. Sam held his breath as the flames shot towards the dark figure, illuminating it completely. Sam could see the tatters of its robes, its strange elongated bone arms and fingers, and under its hood, its mouth - open. The flames never seemed to reach it. They died out just before they touched the monster.  
  
"Shit," Sam heard both Harry and Dean say at the same time, and Harry's Patronus darted forward, as Dean dropped the flame-thrower and pulled out his gun, firing five rounds into the figure as it recoiled from the Stag. The bullets hit it, but the thing didn't stop, didn't even seem to acknowledge that it had been shot.   
  
"Goddamn it!" Dean yelled, and Sam watched as a small throwing knife appeared in his hand, and then just as fast was launched towards the retreating figure. It had the same effect as the bullets...nothing but wasted ammunition.  
  
Dean turned back to them, and Sam could see the tear-tracks on his cheeks. He was surprised Dean was still standing, really.  
  
"Why the hell didn't you shoot!?" Dean yelled at Sam, jogging away from the oncoming storm of Dementors. "We know that fire, silver bullets, and bronze knives have no effect - but we still haven't ruled out iron or salt."  
  
"Dean, " Sam said, "I don't think-"  
  
"Maybe that's the problem!" Dean yelled, and then picked up speed, running past Sam - most likely towards the Impala to get more weapons. Ron's dog followed him.  
  
Sam turned and ran after Dean, cursing his brother's stubbornness. As soon as the park was back in sight, Sam realized they had a major problem. The Impala was parked on the North-West side, surrounded in Dementors... Dementors who were coming right towards them. Sam turned to look back towards the South-East and realized what was happening...  
  
"Tol' you, mate" Ron slurred slightly from where he leaned heavily against the stolen car. "Delicious."


	31. Chapter 31

"We've got to get Dean out of here," Harry said, frantically prying at the knot in the chain around his wrist. Every time he pulled on it, it seemed to get tighter; it figured that the Winchesters would be trained in effective knot work.  
  
"I leave and Sam becomes dinner," Dean stated.  
  
"I'll apparate us all out," Harry sai., "It's not like I haven't done it before. Sam will be fine, I know-"  
  
"Sir!" Phil appeared next to Harry, "McCoy and Lopez are out."  
  
Harry's brain scrambled to rearrange the battle plan in his head, accounting for being two men down.   
  
"Something has to kill these motherfuckers," Dean muttered.  
  
"Transfer Ahmed to defense and make sure our containment points are protected." Harry ordered, eyeing Dean as Dean said something to Ron and motioned towards the Impala. "Keep Allison on standby to sub if one of them falls. I'll leave my mirror open to transmission, in case Ron or I need to step in for transport."  
  
"Dean, we have to go!" Sam said, desperately.  
  
"Sir? The Dementors..." Phil was saying.  
  
"I know, Phil!" Harry said. "We have to get..."  
  
Then Harry watched, shocked, as Ron's terrier blinked out of existence and Ron waved his wand towards the Impala and then brought it back with a short flick of the wrist. He couldn't possibly be...Dean's hand shot to his ring as soon as the Patronus disappeared and Harry could see him taking measured breaths; then, with lightening fast reflexes, Dean reached up and snatched two things out of the air.  
  
"Mr. O'Shaughnessy! We've got a concentrated attack on containment point Beta!" Phil's mirror announced, and, without a word to Harry, Phil disapparated.   
  
"Dean?!" Harry yelled. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"  
  
Ron's Patronus returned and looped around Dean's ankles once more; it was still unstable though, and Harry was seriously concerned about Ron's head wound.   
  
"I have an idea," Dean said, holding up two odd looking guns.  
  
"No way in hell, Dean!" Sam said.  
  
"If I'm inside the containment zone when the walls go up, do I get trapped in with the Dementors?" Dean said, looking around.   
  
"Dean, what...?" Harry and Sam both started to say, but Ron interrupted them.  
  
"Yes and no; it'd be fairly simple to do a localized counter-spell that would exclude you from the containment zone," Ron said, and Harry furrowed his brow at him... how could he possibly say that sentence while his head was bleeding so much?  
  
"Ron! You aren't helping!" Harry said. "Dean, you can't-"  
  
"Can you do that?" Dean asked. "Protect us from going with them?"  
  
"Yeah sure, mate," Ron said. "I jus' hafta have perfect timing. Le'sgo."  
  
Dean took off running and Harry watched slightly horrified as Ron pushed himself off the car and stumbled after him.   
  
"Fuck!" Harry said. "That's it. I'm taking us all out of here. My team can finish this without-"  
  
"Harry! Code Red on Containment Point Gamma! You're closest!" Phil's voice rose out of Harry's pocket. Without thinking about it, Harry spun around and ordered his Patronus away from Sam's side and off towards the Containment Point. They couldn't afford to lose any more men.  
  
Harry noticed Sam's wide-eyed panic as the stag ran away.   
  
"Sorry, Sam," Harry said. "It won't be long, I'm sure-"  
  
Harry cut himself off abruptly. He could see his own breath, Sam was shaking... a branch snapped in the cold behind him.   
  
The Dementors were attacking.  
  
Sam pivoted on his heel and aimed the shotgun he was holding behind them. The shot deafened Harry's left ear momentarily. Harry turned to see the Dementor get tossed back a bit, but then recover and come right for them again.   
  
"Dean!" Sam yelled and took off running after his brother, nearly yanking Harry's arm out of his socket as a result.   
  
The Dementors were toying with them now, swarming in clouds above them, then dipping down, swooping by their heads, causing their steps to falter as memories came rushing back. Harry tried to think of Ginny; his Patronus, although at a distance, still kept him conscious just by existing.   
  
"Gamma secure," Phil's voice rang out through his mirror, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, flicking his wand in a command for the Patronus to return to him.  
  
Up ahead, they could see Dean and Ron, stumbling through the park, being treated to the same torment by the Dementors. They were being played with, Harry thought...Dementors always liked to play with their food. Ron's Patronus was still there, but it was weak. Harry didn't know if it was due to the Dementors or Ron's obvious concussion, or maybe a combination of both. They had to get out of there.  
  
"Dean!" Sam called again, just as a Dementor swooped low over his brother's head. Then Harry watched amazed as Dean aimed his strange gun at the Dementor and fired - wires seemed to extend from the gun to the Dementor and suddenly there was a giant crackle and then the Dementor dropped out of the sky in a heap on the ground.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Harry heard Ron yell from beside Dean. "It actually worked! You killed it!"  
  
"Fucking tazers," Sam muttered from beside Harry, as they finally gained ground on Dean and Ron. "He's only got one shot left now."  
  
"Harry! Zeta! Zeta!" Harry's mirror shouted, and Harry cursed; just as his Patronus returned, he had to send it away again. This time off to the North-East.   
  
"No!" Sam said. "Don't send it away!"  
  
Harry could see where Dean stumbled and fell to his knees in the grass ahead of them, overcome despite the weak light of Ron's Patronus and the victory in discovering how to kill a Dementor.  
  
Harry was torn. If he protected Dean, and the containment failed, they were all doomed. Ron's Patronus would keep Dean from being kissed and that's all that mattered. They could revive Dean with chocolate later.  
  
"Sam," Harry said, "focus on your bracelet. Dean will be-"  
  
"No!" Sam yelled, as another Dementor swooped low over Dean's head. Ron made his terrier jump through the air to drive it back, while he knelt talking directly into Dean's ear.   
  
"Sam!" Harry tried again. "You have to-"  
  
Suddenly, Sam stopped, dropped his shotgun, and grabbed both of Harry's hands in his, holding tight around where Harry held his wand.   
  
"You have to save him!" Sam ordered, and forced Harry to flick his wand towards Dean.   
  
"Sam, that's not the way-" Harry started, but then Sam tightened his grip, nearly crushing Harry's hand under his, and waved the wand again, and Harry gasped as Sam spoke,  
  
" _Expecto Patronum_!"   
  
Harry didn't know what was happening. A beam of silvery-blue light leapt from the end of his wand and hit Dean in the back. At the same time, Harry's knees gave out and, if it weren't for Sam's tight grip on his hands, he would have fallen over completely.  
  
Harry watched transfixed as Dean doubled over and then suddenly sat back on his heels and arched his back, chest heaving. Ron scrambled away in fright, the terrier blinking out of existence as he lost concentration.   
  
"No..." Harry gasped, realizing what Sam had done, "not again...no..."  
  
A mass of silvery-blue rose and unfurled itself from Dean's back, and Harry drew in a breath as he realized that they were the raven's wings...huge silvery-blue raven wings. They were beautiful.  
  
Dean rose and turned to look back at where Sam and Harry stood. Harry could see the terror in his expression, yet his eyes...his eyes were the silvery-blue eyes Harry had seen in the Chamber at the Ministry...the silvery-blue eyes of a wolf.  
  
Harry was going to pass out. He was shaking. He didn't know how this had happened. It felt like all the strength was leaving him, it felt like...  
  
Harry's eyes lowered to where he and Sam were tied together in dawning comprehension. There, resting against their two wrists, was the crystal pendant...the crystal pendant made from the same crystal as the Chamber walls...the pendant that had the ability to conduct magic.... the crystal pendant that was glowing the same blue as Sam's bracelet.  
  
Sam was draining him.  
  
"Dean! No, I...!" Sam said from beside him, and Harry looked back up, exhausted, to see Dean still standing, still terrified, still half human and half Patronus, and Harry realized that Dean couldn't breathe, that his chest was heaving but no air was getting in, he was being choked... choked by the magic that now existed inside him.  
  
"The wand," Harry rasped out, the effort it took to explain suddenly too much. "Give him the wand! He has to say it too."  
  
Sam must have heard him, because his grip on Harry's wand changed, from forcibly holding it to allowing Harry to release it.   
  
"Dean!" Sam yelled, holding the wand out as if to throw it. "You need the wand - you need to do the spell!"  
  
Dean's hand reached out towards them and Harry watched as the wand leaped straight from Sam's hand through the air into Dean's. Dean never said the spell out loud, but Harry watched as he furrowed his brow at the wand, and then waved it in determination, mouthing the words.  
  
The wings disappeared as a mass of silvery-blue leaped out of Dean's chest, taking the form of a wolf with huge raven wings as it landed on the ground in front of him. Dean fell to his knees behind it, breathing deeply, his eyes now back to deep green and wide with shock. Then the Raven-Wolf ran forward, splitting in two as it did, becoming the separate raven and wolf Patronuses. The raven flapped its wings and took off into the air, circling above Dean's head, while the wolf ran in a loop around them on the ground.   
  
There was a pull on Harry's arm, and he realized that Sam was trying to run towards Dean again, only Harry wasn't on his feet.   
  
"Come on!" Sam said. "What the hell is wrong with you!"  
  
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry, as he tried to get his legs under him without success. He felt an arm around his chest and suddenly he was being carried - with one arm - Sam had tossed him onto his shoulder like it was nothing.  
  
Phil's voice came from Harry's pocket as they arrived.   
  
"Clear! Containment in 10..."  
  
"What the hell was that!" Dean asked as they approached. "Put him down Sam!"  
  
Harry landed in an ungraceful heap on the ground, his left arm still held above him where it was attached to Sam.  
  
"Harry! What the hell was that!?" Dean asked again.  
  
"5...4...3..."  
  
"Ron!" Harry yelled, pushing himself onto all fours and realizing what was about to happen, "Counter!"  
  
"2..."   
  
Harry looked over at Ron to see him staring wide-eyed at all of them, the blood still pouring from his head wound.   
  
"COUNTER NOW!" Harry yelled.  
  
"1..."  
  
Ron's wand whipped around in a series of quick movements, while the charms and spells rolled off his tongue. Harry cringed and shut his eyes, realizing that one mispronunciation, one slur too many, and they would be trapped in a cloud of Dementors and transferred to a holding area, and they'd all be doomed...  
  
Then silence.   
  
Harry opened his eyes slowly and sat back in the grass. He looked up to see a small dome of shimmering light over their heads. Beyond it was the storm of Dementors, flying frantically back and forth as they found themselves walled in behind impenetrable wards.  
  
"Containment achieved!" Phil's voice spoke from Harry's mirror. "Transport positions!"  
  
Harry knew that it would take nearly every member of his team to transport the Dementors. It was as precise an operation as containment was - one man for every fence-post, all apparating to designated coordinates at the exact same instant.  
  
"Harry?" Phil's voice spoke over the mirror. "Please tell me you aren't trapped in there?"  
  
Harry fumbled with his mirror, fingers weak and clumsy. He could feel Dean's eyes on him. Ron was too busy concentrating on maintaining the counter-spell, and Sam was too busy trying to see what was going on outside the dome that protected them.  
  
"We're fine, Phil," Harry said back, trying to make his voice steady and strong.   
  
"Harry?" Phil said, "I have to go with them, we lost Henderson."  
  
"Roger," Harry said, and then closed the mirror, so that it would only receive messages.  
  
"Transport in 5...4..." Phil commanded easily, "3...2...1-"  
  
There was a great flash of light beyond the dome and the darkness suddenly disappeared, replaced by the burning orange of the dying sunset. The shimmering dome above them vanished with a wave of Ron's wand. The sense of chaos dropped away and only left the four of them, sitting on the grass in an empty city park. There was a fine frost covering every surface as far as the eye could see but, other than that, no sign that the Dementors had ever been there.  
  
Harry was doing his best to stay conscious, but he was so very tired.   
  
"What the hell happened to me?" Dean's voice broke the silence. Harry laughed mirthlessly.   
  
"Ask your brother," Harry muttered.  
  
"Sam?" Dean asked.  
  
"I don't know!" Sam said. "I don't know what happened! I just wanted to-"  
  
"Give me my wand back," Harry interrupted. "I'm cutting myself lose, I don't bloody care if I lose my bloody hand in the process."  
  
"Harry?" Ron said, "Let me do it, you look like your about to pass-"  
  
"Sorry, man," Dean replied at the same time, "here you-"  
  
Harry looked up to where Dean and Ron both approached him and saw the shadows shift behind them, but it was too late to warn them about the figures he saw approaching from the distance, too late to warn them about the raised hand. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, both Dean and Ron were flung backwards, wands flying out of their hands as they hit the ground several meters away and didn't get back up. Harry felt Sam tense beside him as the figures stepped out of the long shadows of the trees and into the fading light.   
  
Their eyes were black.


	32. Chapter 32

There was a blade at his wrist and Sam's voice was in his ear, and he finally felt the chain and pendant that was binding them fall away.  
  
"Get Dean and get out of here!" Sam ordered him urgently, and Harry wanted to scream, because he would have loved to obey, he really would.  
  
"I can't," Harry said, his voice cracking, as he tried to keep the world in focus. "You bloody idiot, you've drained me! I can't even get my wand."  
  
"What?" Sam's voice came again, confused.   
  
"Sam, " one of the demons said before Harry could respond. "Have you been snacking between meals?"   
  
"I'm going to kill you," Sam responded, in a chilling matter-of-fact voice.  
  
"All of us?" the demon asked. Harry glanced around the park. Three demons stood over Ron, three over Dean, the demon who had spoken standing between the two groups - the leader. Behind them, in the shadows, Harry could see more, but it was so hard to focus, so hard to stay conscious.  
  
"Yes," Sam said, and Harry had to commend him for the excellent bluff.  
  
"Maybe we can come to some sort of deal?" the demon said.  
  
"No," Sam responded.  
  
"You can't kill all of us," the demon said, "you don't have the juice. We won't stand around and let you pick us off one at a time. You attack, we slit the red-head's throat first, then dear old Dean's... actually, no, I have a better idea for Dean."  
  
The demon snapped her fingers and Harry watched in growing horror as a Dementor floated out of the shadows.  
  
"I think Dean might like a little kiss," the demon said. "I know I'd love to watch. You Winchesters almost ruined our plans for Harry here - after we went to all sorts of trouble - it's not easy negotiating with Dementors you know. Such poor conversationalists. We promised them a tasty meal, and we do have to keep our promises..."  
  
"No," Sam responded, but now it was panicked.   
  
"No?" the demon asked. "He'd still be alive. I think it's a pretty good deal. He's alive, but you don't have to put up with his constant whining - his incessant neediness. But... you could always just give us Potter, and, I suppose, we could find someone else to feed to the Dementor - though it _will_ be disappointed."  
  
"No," Sam said, firmly, "I know Harry's a seal. You can't have him."   
  
Sam stepped sideways in front of Harry, so that Harry was now looking at everything through Sam's legs. If he had his wand, if he had the strength, he could easily draw the devil's traps under their feet... stupify their bodies... anything, but it was taking all his concentration not to pass out.   
  
"Then we'll do this the hard way," the demon sighed.   
  
There was a flurry of activity. The demons rushed past Dean and Ron's prone forms and came at Sam, who stood, legs braced and arm out. Harry could see the Dementor, hovering still by Dean; he found himself praying that it was one of the ones that liked to torment before it ate...There was a demon, choking, two demons... choking and falling to their knees. But the others just ran past their fallen comrades and continued towards them, unrelenting. The leader was gone now, fallen to Sam's hand, but there were still more.   
  
Harry scrambled backwards, tried to pull himself to his feet, but he was easily knocked over as a body slammed him into the ground. A hand in his hair pulled him back up, twisted him around, multiple hands held his arms behind him and held down his legs. He glanced around desperately - Ron still lay on the ground, the Dementor still hovered over Dean as though it was waiting for orders it hadn't yet received, but it was too close... and Sam screamed profanities into the night as five demons held him down - struggled to hold him down, but held him down nonetheless.   
  
A tug on his hair pulled his eyes away from where Sam lay still struggling, still yelling threats, and sometimes actually getting a punch in before being restrained again. Harry struggled against his own captors, but it was a feeble attempt, given how weak he was.   
  
Harry felt a knife at his throat. He stilled. This was it. The Winchesters had failed to protect him. It wasn't their fault. He had walked them into a trap - walked them into a trap because he had been trying to do his job, and Sam hadn't wanted to come... so it wasn't their fault. Harry hoped they would forgive him. He hoped Ginny would forgive him too... his kids...  
  
"Open your eyes, Wizard," the deep voice of the demon holding the knife said, "I want you to see this."  
  
Harry opened his eyes, and glared into the black eyes of the demon.  
  
"No," Harry said, and he didn't know what he was saying no to, not really. He had no way to escape. There was no way out of this. He heard one of the demons holding Sam down begin to choke, and saw another figure run out of the shadows in order to restrain the youngest Winchester further.  
  
"No," Harry repeated.  
  
"Huh," the demon said, as if Harry had asked him a question. "Maybe... maybe you want to deal?"  
  
"No," Harry repeated, though this time it came out confused. Deal? What did he have to offer? They were going to take his life anyway, what could he possibly gain? Harry's head was swimming, from both the exhaustion and the confusion.  
  
A tug on his hair brought his eyes up again.   
  
"Maybe... maybe we don't have to break this seal..." the demon was saying. "There are plenty to choose from, after all. Over 400 possible seals once the first breaks - and he did, so pretty. Alls we have to do is break 66 of them, and we're already well on our way. Maybe... maybe we could let you go, if you give us something in return..."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, feeling his legs and arms going limp, too exhausted to even make a feeble attempt at struggling. He felt the other demons who were holding him chuckle.   
  
"Sam Winchester is so  _useful,_ " one of them laughed, but the laughing was cut off with a sharp look from the demon holding the knife.  
  
"Look at your little friend, Ron" the demon said, and Harry forced his eyes to focus across the grass to where he knew Ron lay. Only Ron wasn't lying there anymore. He was still unconscious, but a demon was holding him upright by his hair, in a position that mirrored Harry's... with a knife to his throat.  
  
"No," Harry said, unable to rip his eyes away from the dark blade against Ron's pale skin.  
  
"Or how about your new friend, Dean Winchester," the demon continued, and Harry's head was forcibly angled away from Ron and Harry's gaze shifted over to where the Dementor hovered over Dean - dipping menacingly lower now.  
  
"We could take them instead," the demon said. "The choice is yours. We kill you or them. How does that sound? This way, it's your choice whether the seal is broken... doesn't that sound like fun? What's more valuable to you, your life, your best friend's life, a near-stranger's life, or preventing the apocalypse? Not that you could prevent it... like I said, you're one of many choices. We don't have to break this seal."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked. "Why would you let me stop you from breaking the seal?"  
  
"I'm feeling charitable," the demon responded. "Plus, it'd be so much more fun to watch you tell your friend's wife that you ordered his throat slit... so much more fun to watch Sam Winchester's agony after losing his brother again... I miss his agony. The fuckin' angels ruined all our fun by bringing Dean back."  
  
"They'll just bring him back again," Harry said out loud, realizing that if the angels didn't want Dean dead, then it wasn't going to happen.   
  
"Oh, Dean will still be alive, though, won't he?" the demon said. "Just empty. I don't think the angels care that much about the details - after all, I hear he gives them a lot of lip. Your little friend though... ain't nobody care one way or the other 'bout him."  
  
Harry swallowed.  
  
"The choice is yours, Mr. Saviour," the demon said menacingly.  
  
Harry wondered what would happen if he just let himself pass out. Would they just kill everyone then? Were they actually giving him a chance to prevent the seal from breaking... and all he had to do was kill his best friend and leave Dean Winchester soulless? What kind of choice was that? He was just one seal. The Winchesters could prevent the others, couldn't they? If one out of 66 fell, what did it matter? Only Harry knew that he wouldn't be the first to fall... he remembered Dean pointing to the word Samhain, and telling Harry that they messed that one up. How many had fallen? Could he really choose the apocalypse over his friend?   
  
Sam would die without his brother... Sam would... Sam needed Dean, just as much as Dean needed Sam. Harry could see that. It was what Dean's Patronus knew - knew even though Dean didn't seem to - Harry didn't even know if that was possible, yet somehow he felt it was true. Sam would kill him, if he gave that order. He'd deserve it.  
  
Why? Why give him this choice? Why give him this horrible choice?  
  
Suddenly, there was a popping noise to Harry's right, and a silver otter dashed across his field of vision.   
  
No.  
  
The demons cursed and those that had been holding Harry down pointlessly sprang up and ran towards the newcomer.  
  
No.  
  
In the next instant, there was a crackle of electricity, and a distant thud, and then a much closer thwack-squick noise... and then the demon that had been holding the knife to Harry's throat suddenly looked like he had swallowed orange lightning, before it slumped over - eyes wide in disbelief, a knife in its back.  
  
Harry promptly fell over without anyone to hold him up anymore. From his boneless position on the ground, he could see bodies being tossed around like they were nothing, he could hear cursing and screaming... and above it all, he could hear Hermione's crisp clear tones reciting an exorcism as though she had done so every day of her life.  
  
*  
  
Dean was in hell. Again. He wondered if it was real, but it felt real. There were the screams - his own, others. There was the blood. There was the agony. He was freezing. He didn't remember freezing in hell, but then, sometimes they did like to switch things up. Vaguely, he could feel cold grass against his cheek and some distant noise that sounded a bit like Sam swearing.  
  
 _Sam,_  Dean thought; he wanted to yell out to him, but he couldn't seem to make a sound. Maybe he had removed his vocal chords. Sometimes he did that... sometimes he liked it when Dean couldn't scream... couldn't drown out his words.  
  
He couldn't remember feeling cold grass against his cheek or Sam swearing in hell, though. This was new. This was different.   
  
Then suddenly the world shifted, grew blue where it had been red. He found himself lying in frosted grass in a park, a silvery-blue otter was beside him, and then it vanished the same instant that Dean heard a woman's voice screaming short commands in Latin behind him. The Dementor swooped back towards him, and Dean brought the other tazer up on instinct, fired and watched in satisfaction as the Dementor dropped out of the sky. This all happened in a second's time.  
  
Dean rolled up on his feet and saw a man crouched with a knife to Harry's throat, a hand in Harry's hair. Dean acted on reflex, and before he realized what he had done, Ruby's knife had been launched through the air with a practiced hand, and found its mark in the demon's back. Dean watched as both the demon and Harry fell over.  
  
There was a demon holding Ron, looking confused, a knife held loosely in its hand. Dean pulled out his flask and launched himself towards it, but Hermione was quicker, and Dean had to duck as the demon sailed over his head a half-second later. Hermione was standing in a devil's trap - standing in the very centre and hurling demons away from her with spells when they got too close...hurling them into smaller devil's traps that seemed to appear underneath them where they landed.   
  
Dean's eyes fell on where Sam lay pinned down, the demons holding him cursing, distracted. Sam was able to get an arm free just as Dean ran over and sprayed holy water on the rest, causing them to scream and lose their grips. Sam threw most of them off, throwing wild punches. His face was covered with blood, and Dean's heart skipped in worry; then he realized that the blood all seemed to be coming from Sam's nose - and now he could see the scorch marks on the grass around where Sam had been pinned - and his worry turned into something even more unpleasant.  
  
Sam was watching transfixed as Hermione didn't seem to breathe between spells; then, finally, began to recite an exorcism in perfect beautiful Latin. Dean looked around and realized that all the demons that were still alive were trapped, snarling. Six demons. Hermione had taken on six demons...and won.  
  
"Sam..." Dean all but breathed.  
  
"She's married," Sam replied, and Dean felt himself smile at the disappointment in Sam's voice.  
  
After the last of the demons had been sent back to the pit, Hermione gave a satisfied nod and then ran over to her husband.   
  
Dean jogged over to check on Harry, and found him lying bonelessly in the grass, smiling up at him proudly.  
  
"Dude," Dean said, "Hermione is awesome!"  
  
"I know" Harry said. "Can you pick me up?"  
  
Dean's brow furrowed, but he dutifully bent over and pulled Harry up so that he was sitting. Dean realized that he basically had to sit there with him though, or Harry was just going to fall over again. Harry was so pale, Dean could tell he was using the last of his strength to stay conscious. His eyes kept trying to roll back into his head. He glanced at Sam, but Sam was busy furiously wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve and looking guilty.  
  
"That was a close one," Dean said, turning back to Harry. "One more second they would have got you."  
  
"Harry was never the target," Hermione's voice suddenly said from behind him. Dean turned to see Hermione and Ron walking over. Ron looked extremely confused. Hermione just looked relieved.  
  
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.  
  
"They needed a saviour to sacrifice," Hermione answered.  
  
"Exactly..." Sam said slowly, furrowing his brow, "they were going to sacrifice..."  
  
"No," Hermione said, "saviour is in the nominative, not the accusative. We lost the distinction in English, but in most Indo-European languages..."  
  
"Wait, what?" Dean asked.  
  
"The saviour isn't the one being sacrificed," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "he's the one that is doing the sacrificing."  
  
"Holy..." Sam said, staring with wide eyes at Harry.  
  
"They gave you a choice, didn't they, Harry?" Hermione asked.   
  
"Ron and Dean or..." Harry started to say weakly, then broke off and started again, "I couldn't..."  
  
Dean realized that there were tears in Harry's eyes.  
  
"It's alright," Hermione said, sitting down next to Harry, and looking worriedly at him. "Harry? What did they do to you?"  
  
Dean watched as Harry's eyes rolled their way up to glance at Sam for a minute, then flicked to Dean, and then back to Hermione.  
  
"It was an accident," Harry answered.  
  
Dean turned to look at Sam, who was staring at Harry as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dean was confused for an instant. It wasn't the first time they had seen Harry weak. When he had taken them to the chamber, it had been similar... oh.  
  
"I'm going to pass out now," Harry announced and then he did.  
  
Dean carefully checked his pulse, then slid an arm around his shoulders and another under his legs and scooped him off the ground.  
  
"He just needs sleep, right?" Dean asked.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Ron said. "How'd you-"  
  
"Um, promised we wouldn't talk about it, sorry," Dean said.  
  
"This isn't the first time this has happened since he met you?" Ron asked then, and Dean saw his eyes slide sideways towards Sam. Dean bit his lip, but nodded.  
  
"Last time, Malfoy was able to-" Sam started.  
  
"Wow, promises really mean nothing to you, do they!?" Dean cut him off. He watched as Sam snapped his mouth shut and glared at him angrily.   
  
"You had the knife, Dean, what was I supposed to do?" Sam ground out.  
  
Dean sighed.  
  
"Never mind," Dean said, "forget I mentioned it. Hey, Hermione? Can you apparate two people at once?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, "but I thought you didn't-"  
  
"I think we should get Harry to the safe-house so he can rest up," Dean said. "Sam, Ron, why don't you see if any of these poor bastards around us are still alive... then, you know... clean up."  
  
"Dean-" Sam started to say, but Dean cut him off.  
  
"Drive my baby to the safe-house for me, okay?"  
  
He watched as Sam decided how angry he wanted to be, and was relieved when he saw a familiar resigned expression come across his face.  
  
"Yeah, okay," Sam said.  
  
"Thanks," Dean replied, then turned to Hermione. "Alright, let's get this over with. Harry's heavier than he looks."  
  
Hermione smiled as she gripped his arm tightly, and Dean reflexively tightened his grip around Harry as everything momentarily went black.


	33. Chapter 33

Harry felt the familiar tug of consciousness. He didn't open his eyes at first, content to listen to the noises around him. He could hear birds outside. The air smelt clean, but not hospital clean. The sheets were too soft for that. Beside him, someone turned a page - Hermione - he could tell by the way he could practically hear her thinking.  
  
He blinked his eyes open and looked over towards Hermione's blurry figure, silhouetted by the sun through the window.  
  
"What did I miss?" Harry asked, his voice rough from sleep. He saw Hermione's head snap away from where she had been gazing out the window, while he squinted to try to see her expression.  
  
"Your glasses are on the bedside table," Hermione said.  
  
"They always are," Harry replied and reached over and slipped them on. Hermione was smiling at him.  
  
"How long?" Harry asked.  
  
"A day and a half," Hermione said. "Not so bad, given the state of you. I was worried we'd be here for a few days."  
  
"So, original question?" Harry said, smiling back.  
  
"Ron and Phil took care of the reports to the Department and the Ministry," Hermione reported with a sigh. "They told enough that no one would believe they were lying, but not so much as to actually tell the truth."  
  
"Is Ron's head alright?" Harry asked, remembering the slurred words and concussion.  
  
"I'm not sure that's a question anyone can answer," Hermione laughed, then smiled sincerely. "He's fine, Harry."  
  
"The Winchesters?" Harry asked, and watched as Hermione's smile vanished, though she quickly replaced it with a nice fake one.  
  
"They're alright, too," Hermione answered, then took a breath before continuing, "though they had a bit of a row yesterday."  
  
"They do that," Harry said. "They're brothers."  
  
"I know," Hermione replied, but frowned nonetheless before continuing, "Sam stormed off for a few hours. Came back looking a little better than before he left, but things still seem tense between them. Ron distracted Dean with some electronics project. He wanted Dean to teach him how to steal cars, but I told him I'd have none of that. So, they decided to make an EMF meter, I believe."  
  
"Here?" Harry asked, knowing that they must be at the safe-house.  
  
"Out in the garden," Hermione answered.   
  
"And Sam?" Harry asked.  
  
"Reading," Hermione answered, "down in the study, when he's not in here looking at you guiltily."  
  
"He's been watching me sleep?" Harry asked. "That's a little unnerving."  
  
Hermione laughed again, but then gave Harry a stern look.  
  
"You better tell him that it wasn't his fault," Hermione said. "I swear... the eyes on that boy. If he gets any sadder, it'll break my heart."  
  
"That bad?" Harry replied.  
  
"Do you want me to go tell him you're awake?" Hermione said as an answer. "I promised him I would."  
  
"Yeah, might as well get it over with," Harry said.  
  
Hermione slipped out of the room, and Harry pulled himself up to sitting, and took a long drink from the water that had been placed next to his bed. He heard the distant murmur of Hermione's voice, and then Sam's, but couldn't make out what they were saying. It appeared as though the safe-house was an old farmhouse. The walls were made of slatted wood, painted white. White curtains hung loose over the windows of his room, letting the breeze and the sunlight in. It was old, but much nicer than the motels the Winchesters had been staying in.  
  
Sam's tall frame peeked around the edge of the open door, and Harry could see what Hermione meant about his eyes. Merlin, it was the first time Sam had really looked his age. Still, it was hard not to smile at Sam trying to make himself look small, when he had to duck to get through the old doorway.  
  
"Hey," Harry said.  
  
"Hey," Sam replied. "How're you feeling?"  
  
"Well rested," Harry answered with a smile. "How are you and your brother?"  
  
"We ate two chocolate cakes," Sam said, ducking his head as though he were embarrassed.  
  
"None left for me then?" Harry laughed, and then regretted it when Sam's head snapped up and he looked a little worried.  
  
"Do you need some? I could go get some more! I'm sorry, I didn't-"  
  
"No, no," Harry said hurriedly, "I'm fine, I was just...never mind."  
  
"Oh, okay..." Sam replied. "Listen Harry, I'm sorry about... I didn't know that I could... that is, I never meant-"  
  
"Sam," Harry interrupted, because this was quickly going from awkward to painfully awkward. "I know you didn't do it on purpose. Hell, I didn't even know that the pendant could do that... this demon-blood thing... it's not like we have any knowledge of how it reacts to certain things."  
  
"The pendant?" Sam asked, confused. Harry suddenly realized Sam didn' t even know _how_  it had happened; no wonder the poor kid was so wracked with guilt.  
  
"The pendant," Harry began to explain, "was made with the same crystal as the walls in the Chamber at the Ministry... do you remember? It conducts ambient magic, or amplifies directed magic. The pendant was hanging between our two hands, and when you grabbed my wand, it finally got close enough to make a connection. You said the incantation - and meant it - and as I already had an incantation going, the pendant was basically sitting in a river of magic, you just... opened the floodgates, so to say."  
  
"Oh." Sam said, "I thought-"  
  
"That it was all you somehow?" Harry finished for him. "No, it wasn't, at least not all of it. Though, I doubt it would have happened had I been chained to Dean, but it might have happened with another wizard."  
  
Sam nodded, and Harry wasn't sure if he was feeling better or worse.  
  
"You're forgiven, Sam," Harry said. "You didn't know what you were doing."  
  
Sam nodded again, but now gave Harry a small smile.  
  
"You have to stop trying to turn your brother into a Patronus though," Harry said jokingly. "That's not the way it's supposed to work."  
  
Sam sighed, and turned slightly, choosing to look out the window rather than at Harry. Harry wasn't sure what he was looking at, and was about to ask when Sam spoke.  
  
"I speak Latin, Harry," Sam said. "Hermione does too, but I'm guessing you don't."  
  
"Uh, no," Harry said, a bit confused.  
  
"Patronus means 'protector' or 'guardian'..." Sam explained and shook his head. "I can't believe you are saying these spells without knowing what they mean... but, when you say 'Expecto Patronum', what you are saying is 'I await a protector.' I can't say the words without thinking of Dean. It's just not possible. I never meant to hurt him."  
  
"Oh," Harry replied, "but Sam...the Patronus is supposed to be a reflection of  _you_. I mean, sometimes it changes - when people fall in love sometimes, for instance - but even then, it's something that comes from you, not another person."  
  
"I know," Sam said, turning back from the window to look at Harry, his eyes suddenly sharp and sincere. "I know it's up to me now to fill that role. It's just - Dean's been looking after me my whole life... but I know I have to try to do better."  
  
"Sam," Harry said. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"Dean's not..." Sam said softly, his eyes saddened. "Ever since... it's like I'm still waiting for him to come back... look, I just have to step up, that's all. Return the favour. I don't care what it takes."  
  
"Sam?" Harry asked again, a deep unease coiling in his chest, but Sam just smiled at him and nodded, like that was the end of the discussion.  
  
"I should go tell him that you're awake," Sam said, "if Hermione hasn't already."  
  
"Okay," Harry said, but Sam was already moving out of the room. Harry heard his heavy footsteps down the stairs and then a screen door clap shut. Voices came from the garden through the open window, and moments later there was a flurry of footsteps bounding up the stairs.   
  
Harry smiled as Ron and Dean both came into the room, while Sam leaned against the door frame.  
  
"See!" Sam said, like Harry being awake proved something.  
  
"Harry!" Ron said. "That was quick."  
  
"Quick?" Dean said. "Man, being your friend must be boring if you sleeping for more than a day is a regular event."  
  
Ron ignored Dean's comment completely and instead was waving a weird electronic contraption in front of Harry.  
  
"Look what Dean made me!" Ron said. "It's just like his. I'm going to give it to Dad for his birthday. He showed me how to fix it and everything too, and he refuses to take any money for it. I'm not allowed to turn it on inside the house, but you can get dressed and we can go out into the garden-"  
  
"That's great, Ron," Harry said, giving Dean a thankful smile. Dean ducked his head in a move that was so like Sam that there was no denying the two were brothers.   
  
"I,  uh,  owed him one for saving my ass with that dog of his," Dean said dismissively, "plus he was able to get the tazers from the car."  
  
"Dean can kill Dementors!" Ron said, as though Harry hadn't been there to see it. "He uses electrickacy!"  
  
"Damn straight!" Dean replied, smiling brightly. "I told you something had to kill those sons of bitches! There's not a supernatural creature out there that you can't kill somehow - 'cept Reapers."  
  
"Yeah, about that..." Harry said. "Why did you decide to try electricity?"  
  
"The usual stuff didn't work," Dean said. "So, I was trying to think of things that might kill something that was magic... then I remembered how y'all were talking about electricity not liking magic. I figured maybe the feeling was mutual if you had enough electricity. I keep the tazers amped really high to kill Rawheads."  
  
"I hate those fuckin' things," Sam interjected from the doorway.  
  
"Anyway," Dean said with a roll of his eyes, "turns out I was right! It completely destroyed the tazers, but not before destroying the Dementor first."  
  
"Dean's a genius," Ron told Harry. "We should have him come teach the trainees back home... or give a lecture at Hogwarts."  
  
Harry laughed at the idea of bringing a Hunter into the Auror department, and then laughed at the image of Dean in a tweed jacket in front of a roomful of thirteen year olds.  
  
"I'm pretty sure Dean has enough on his plate as it is," Hermione's voice came from the door. Sam pivoted on his heel to let her by.  
  
Harry was thankful to see that Hermione was carrying a pile of laundered clothes - specifically,  _his_  clothes. As much as he was used to entertaining guests while sitting in bed in his boxers, Harry didn't really prefer it.  
  
"How about you three go find us some supper," Hermione continued. "I'm sure Harry would like to shower and get dressed."  
  
It was as Dean, Ron, and Sam shuffled out of the room arguing about what ethnicity of food they should pick up, that Harry noticed that there was something off with the way Hermione's eyes were following them.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry said. "What's the matter?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Hermione said, quickly dropping her gaze to the pile of clothes in her arms as she dumped them at the foot of Harry's bed.  
  
"You're looking at Dean, like..." Harry began, not sure how to explain it himself. "...You're looking at Dean like you haven't seen him before."  
  
Hermione bit her bottom lip, and the unease in Harry's chest returned.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry asked. "What did you find at the library?"  
  
"I found the correct translation of the seal," Hermione stated, and Harry nodded; he remembered that part, "And... and I found out what happened in August."  
  
Harry sat up straighter.  
  
"What?" Harry asked. "What was it, Hermione?"  
  
Below them, the screen door banged shut, and Harry could hear the now familiar sound of the Impala's engine.  
  
"I found a translation of the first seal," Hermione said. "The first seal has to be broken before any of the others can be broken."  
  
"So, the first seal was broken in August?" Harry said, somewhat relieved. "Well, that makes sense... and it explains why Dean knew that it wasn't something Sam did."  
  
"Harry..." Hermione said, and Harry's relief vanished at her tone. "The first seal is broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell."  
  
"What?"  
  
"'As he breaks, so shall it break,'" Hermione recited. "Harry, it had to have been Dean..."  
  
"Oh," Harry said, not sure what to make of the new information.   
  
"Harry, the second surviving line of the prophecy. It says that the two brothers are the Alpha and Omega of the End..." Hermione said. Harry nodded. "If Dean began it... then Sam..."  
  
"Will end it," Harry finished. "Well, that's what he's doing, isn't it? That's why he was protecting me."  
  
"Harry, I don't think it means..." Hermione started to say, but then cut herself off with a confused huff. "Well, never mind, maybe you're right."  
  
Harry didn't know what to make of Hermione's mood shift, but his mind was too caught up in the information she had given him.  
  
"Do you think Dean knows that he started it?" Harry asked.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione answered. "If he doesn't, I don't want to be the one to tell him."  
  
"Do you think we should?" Harry asked, remembering a similar conversation with an angel in the Hall of Prophecy.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione answered again, getting distraught. "He's been... making that meter with Ron, showing him how to fix it... he's seemed... happy. If he... if it was really him who... I don't even want to think of what they must have done to him to get him to-"  
  
"No," Harry said, "let's not. Dean would never... I mean, obviously he did, but..."  
  
Hermione laughed mirthlessly.  
  
"And then there's Sam and the demon-blood," Hermione said. "I didn't find any information on that."  
  
"So, you figured it out too?" Harry asked. "Or did Ron tell you?"  
  
"Ron told me about the demon-blood yesterday, but I already knew there was something about Sam that you weren't telling us," Hermione answered. "You vouch for Sam though, right? I mean, he's not... it's like you and Voldemort? Because that prophecy..."  
  
"Just because he has evil in him, it doesn't make him evil," Harry said. "I don't know what that prophecy meant, but I can't imagine anything tearing those two apart. Merlin's sake, the guy just finished telling me he'd do anything to keep his brother safe."  
  
Hermione frowned, and Harry was a bit confused.  
  
"Maybe that's not a good thing, Harry," Hermione said tentatively, then sighed. "Let's just... forget about all of this for now. The bath is across the hall, the boys will be back soon with the food, so hurry up."  
  
*    *  
  
  
"Well, it's been great meeting you guys," Dean said, as the last of the food was cleared off everyone's plates, "but I think it's time for me and Sam to head out."  
  
Hermione and Ron both made noises of protest, but Harry didn't look surprised.   
  
"You could stay the night, leave in the morning," Harry offered anyway. "It's already sunset."  
  
"Nah," Dean replied, "I've still got plenty of driving time in me."  
  
"Where are you going?" Harry asked.  
  
"Iowa," Sam replied. "Suspicious death."  
  
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I also want to find Cas and ask him why the hell we had no warning or help on this one. If it hadn't been for Hermione here, we may have been screwed. Thanks again for the rescue, by the way. Unlike these two, I know you didn't make the career choice to risk your neck everyday."  
  
"Oh, don't mention it," Hermione said. "Really, I should go back and thank that librarian. When I couldn't get in touch with Ron, he was really adamant that I go immediately to find him. He was the one that found me the proper books too. He knew exactly what I was looking for."  
  
"He didn't recognize you, did he?" Ron asked. "You were supposed to stay under the invisibility cloak as much as possible."  
  
"No," Hermione answered, "I don't think he knew who I was. He was a little strange."  
  
"Strange how?" Sam asked, brow furrowed. 'Strange' was a trigger word for any Hunter, Dean included. If Dean heard the word 'strange', it was basic reflex to investigate.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said. "He was wearing odd clothes for a wizard. He seemed to work there, but he still had his outdoor coat on. Also, he got annoyed when he caught me reading certain chapters of one of the books, and kept trying to direct my attention back to the chapters that were about the seal."  
  
Dean took a deep breath, met Sam's questioning gaze, and then turned his attention back to Hermione.  
  
"Black suit? Beige trench-coat? Blue eyes? Very serious? Didn't blink much?"  
  
Hermione looked a little stunned, Ron looked confused, Harry looked surprisingly like he had reached the same conclusion that Dean had.   
  
"Yes..." Hermione said.  
  
"Well, I guess that answers that question," Sam said. "Though, why he wouldn't come to us directly..."  
  
"Well, we did mess up his last few assignments," Dean shrugged.  
  
"Wait," Hermione said. "Are you saying..."  
  
"That your librarian was an angel of the Lord?" Dean asked. "Yes."  
  
"Oh my," Hermione said.   
  
"Were you able to find out any more about why your government's keeping a file on us?" Sam asked.   
  
Dean watched as Hermione's gaze slid momentarily to Harry's, before she spoke.  
  
"I was able to find that most of the research is coming from the Elders of the West Coast. Other than that, no... I didn't find anything else about the government files," Hermione replied. "So, my only advice would be to try to stay out of the Pacific North-West."  
  
"Easier said than done," Sam mumbled.   
  
"Well, thanks for trying," Dean said. "Why don't you go grab your stuff, Sammy."  
  
Sam nodded and went upstairs to pack, while Dean packed up the weapons he had been cleaning that afternoon. Hermione and Ron seemed content to clear the kitchen, while Ron peppered Hermione with questions about what Castiel was like. Dean smiled when he overheard some of her responses.  
  
"Dean?" Harry said, and Dean turned to find Harry standing slightly awkwardly in the doorway. "I just wanted to thank you for all your help." Dean raised his hand to halt Harry's speech, but Harry ignored him. "With the Dementors too, I mean... you really didn't have to help with that. I know it must have been..."  
  
"Dude," Dean said, "stop. It was nothing."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded. He crossed the room and held something out for Dean. Dean shot Harry a confused look, but took what was being handed to him. He realized that it was a small compact flip-mirror.  
  
"Is this-" Dean started to ask.  
  
"If you ever need help with anything... _anything_ ...I want you to call me," Harry answered. "You just have to speak my name into the mirror."  
  
"Uh, thanks," Dean said.  
  
"Even if it breaks, the pieces will still work," Harry added.  
  
"Ok," Dean said, at a loss for what else to say, and a little thrown by Harry's sincerity.  
  
"Everything alright?" Sam's voice asked from the doorway, most likely sensing the serious mood in the room.  
  
"Yeah, Sam," Dean said. Harry smiled.  
  
"I was just thanking Dean for the help," Harry added. "I'd like to thank you too, of course."   
  
"Don't mention it," Sam said, smiling softly, then looked a little guilty. "I'm sorry again about the umm... accidental magic."  
  
"Not your fault," Harry dismissed.   
  
Hermione and Ron appeared next. Hermione handed them a slip of paper.  
  
"My address," she said, and Dean raised an eyebrow and gave her a slow smirk. Hermione blushed. "For your friend Bobby."  
  
"Does your husband know you like older men?" Dean teased. Hermione blushed further, while Ron tried to look annoyed, but Dean could tell that he knew Dean was teasing.  
  
"If he's alright with what I am," Hermione continued, "I'd very much like to stay in touch, maybe do a book exchange?"  
  
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Dean teased.  
  
"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hermione exclaimed, and Dean chuckled.  
  
"We'll explain everything to him," Sam assured Hermione. "I'm sure he'll be in touch."  
  
"Shit," Dean muttered, "how long have we been out of cell-range? Bobby's going to kill us."  
  
"Shit," Sam cringed, "yeah... we um,  _really_  should go now."  
  
There were handshakes, and Hermione gave them both a polite kiss on the cheek in parting, and then Dean and Sam were back in the Impala. Sam waved back towards the three figures on the porch of the old farmhouse as they drove down the long driveway.   
  
Both brothers watched as the house disappeared as soon as they were off the property, leaving what looked like an empty field. Just like that, the secret world of wizards was once again hidden from them, save for the pendants tucked in a corner of the trunk and the weight of the small flip-mirror in Dean's jacket pocket.  
  
Dean spun the tires for fun - earning an eye-roll from Sam - and they took off into the night.   
  
The sky was clear for the first time in weeks.  
  
 _fin_


End file.
